


Advent Adventures

by silentlagoon



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Car Accident, Character Death, Everybody Lives, F/M, Family, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hobbit Advent, M/M, Multi, Presents, Prompt Fill, Sexual Content, Siblings, Smooching, Winter, head trauma recovery, slight inebriation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-03 06:50:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 24,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentlagoon/pseuds/silentlagoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm so sorry about the title, I couldn't help myself. </p><p>I'm having a go at the Hobbit Advent prompt challenge so I'll be posting a story each day in the run up to Christmas. </p><p>Chapters with smut are marked accordingly. The work is mostly Gen though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt for day one was 'mistletoe'. Hope you enjoy. :)

Winter was always an exciting time in the Shire. To keep away the worries and chills that the long, dark nights brought with them the hobbits would gather together and do what hobbits do best. Eat and drink and smoke.

On these dark nights logs that burned from the inside out were placed along the pathways that led to one of the outlying fields that were extremely popular for parties. In the centre of this field, a huge bonfire was lit, around which hobbits would congregate to eat, talk and dance together in order to banish the fears that often ride in on the backs of cold nights.

Bungo Baggins sat sipping his cider watching the other hobbits of his age dance around the bonfire. Their faces lit up by the orange flames. He was watching one hobbit in particular. Belladonna Took. This wasn’t the first time he had noticed her. Oh no! Bungo had often marvelled at the way her loose curls caught in the wind and danced around her face. The way she always seemed to be smiling, as if she were stuck like that. The way she was braver than anyone else in world. It was said that once, she ran away from home and made it all the way to Rivendell!

He watched as she jumped around the blazing fire with her little cousins, holding their hands and laughing all the while. He lost sight of her as she twirled away from the group that encircled the bonfire.

“Best watch where you’re sitting, Baggins.”

“Wh-what?” Bungo stammered. Raising his head to see who had spoken.

Oh of course. It had to be her. Belladonna-Perfect-Took and her perfect smile and here he was stammering and blushing like a fool.

“I said, you’d best watch where you’re sitting. Else you’ll be getting some unwelcome kisses, I’d bet.”

She nodded upwards and he followed her gaze to a small sprig of mistletoe that had been tied to a branch above his head.

“Oh! Oh my! I had no idea. Oh how foolish of me, people must think me so odd to be sitting here like this all evening!”

 

He hastily made to get up and move far, far away. Maybe he’d leave the Shire altogether and go live out the rest of his days in a cave somewhere; but before he could flee, two surprisingly strong hands gripped his waistcoat and pulled him close. Belladonna pressed her lips softly against his. The kiss was gentle and slow and _sweet_. Bungo’s hands clenched and unclenched by his sides, unsure where they should be. They drew apart, her fingers still caught in the fabric of his waistcoat.

“I don’t think you could ever be foolish.” She told him quietly before planting another quick peck on his lips and vanishing into the night.


	2. Gingerbread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin has a sweet tooth that drives him crazy.

Just one more, Dwalin told himself; just one more would be enough. One last bite of that sweet biscuit with its small, fiery kick and he’d stop.

He’d spent the day in joyous excitement watching his mother weigh out the ingredients to make the dough. Watched the syrup gloop into the mixture of flour and eggs and spices in fascination as it all came together. He had helped her cut it into the shape of tiny dwarves and passed his afternoon inhaling as deeply as he could, relishing the smells that wafted through their home. When they were set aside to cool he had reached out for one. Just to taste. Just to make sure they weren’t bad. He’d _hate_ for his family to have to eat bad gingerbread. But before he could reach hold of his prize, his hand had received a sharp rap on the knuckles with a wooden spoon.

“Ah –ah! No you don’t! These are for tomorrow,” his mother explained, “Then you can have as many as you like.”

“But Ama!” he protested, “I’m hungry!”

“Then have a piece of fruit.” Came the curt reply.

Dwalin sulked. He didn’t want fruit. He wanted gingerbread.

He tried. He really did. He tried so hard to forget about the delicious little figures that were sitting there in the kitchen. He tried to sleep, knowing that he’d wake up in no time and be able to tuck into those yummy biscuits, but he could not drift off. His mind was awhirl with the thought of sinking his teeth into the head of a gingerbread-dwarf, feeling it crumble into sweetness and warmth in his mouth. It was too much, he was practically _drooling_ he was so desperate. He jumped out of bed and crept as quietly as he possibly could to the kitchen.

The jar seemed emptier than when he’d gone to bed, but he paid it little mind; instead he grabbed a gingerbread-dwarf and shoved it whole into his mouth, his sweet tooth finally placated.

That was how his father found him. Hand in a now half empty jar of gingerbread with crumbly evidence in his scraggly beard and the torso of one of the tasty dwarves in his mouth.

“Well I guess I know someone who won’t be getting any treats for the rest of the solstice.”

Dwalin’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Mmmmppph!” he exclaimed through his mouthful.

“That’s what you get for you greediness, young lad.” He growled.

His youngest son sullenly relinquished is hold on the jar. He made a start for the stairs, his mouth downcast and his head hanging low in shame. He suddenly stopped.

“You … you won’t tell Amad, will you?”

His father gave a small smile.

“No I don’t reckon I will, seeing as how I got to them first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've come to realise that I shouldn't write about food. I just get crazy hungry.


	3. Mulled Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulled wine, it's not tea but it produces an interesting situation for Dori

Dori sat outside the Mister Balin’s office waiting patiently for Ori to finish his lessons. The lad was old enough to walk himself home now but Dori had been out that afternoon and felt it might be nice to walk with his little brother for a change.

The door to the office opened to reveal not Ori, but Balin himself, he looked slightly surprised to find Dori sat there but schooled his features into a warm smile.

“Good day, Mister Dori,” he began, “Looking for Ori?”

“Yes, well it was on my way home so I thought I’d collect him.”

“Oh I’m afraid he’s left a little early today. I believe the princes have taken him out somewhere or other.”

Dori frowned. On the one hand he was delighted that his Ori was rubbing elbows with royalty, but on the other, those two princes had a nasty habit of getting into trouble and it always seemed to be that Ori got caught in the middle of it.

“Seeing as you’re here, could I interest you in some refreshment? Perhaps discuss Ori’s progress?” Balin suggested.

“Oh. Well, I suppose so. Thank you.”

Dori followed Balin into the cosy office and took the seat he was directed to. Balin was leant in front of the small fireplace stirring something that was in the little cauldron hanging above the flames. It filled the room with a pleasant scent of sweet spices.

“May I interest you in some mulled wine?”

“No thank you,” Dori declined, “I’m really more of a tea drinker.”

“Oh, well this is very good I assure you. Not too strong either, so I’m told. Are you sure I can’t tempt you?”

Balin was wearing that sort of half smile that made him look very smug, as if he knew Dori would cave. That almost made him more stubborn not to take any wine, but the small twinkle in Balin’s eyes and the rich scent from the cauldron made him shrug in resignation.

“Very well! Just a small glass, mind you.”

He graciously accepted the glass and wrapped his hands around it, relishing the heat. He blew delicately across the top to cool it down before taking a sip. Balin was right, it was very good. The balance of spices was just right, cinnamon and nutmeg dancing on his taste buds. He took a larger gulp. Delicious. In no time at all they were on their second glass, then a third, then a fourth.

The conversation had long since deviated from the topic of Ori’s schooling in favour of reminiscing of days gone by.

“But of course it ended up all over his face!” Both dwarves laughed raucously at Balin’s anecdote. They giggled like dwarflings as Balin tried to pour the remainder of the wine into their glasses and missed entirely, causing a fair bit to slosh onto the floor.

“Oh what a waste.” Dori sighed, and knocked back what little liquid had made it into his glass, enjoying the heat in his throat.

He wasn’t quite sure how it had happened but he suddenly realised that Balin’s hand was most definitely on his knee and Dori was most definitely not doing anything about it. Dori’s cheeks felt hot from the wine and the blaze of the fire.

“You know,” he slurred (only slightly), “I think whoever told you that this wasn’t strong was lying to you.”

“Do you think so? What makes you say that?”

“Well, your hand is on my knee.”

“And?”

“It’s on my knee.”

Balin smiled crookedly and swayed a little on his chair.

“So? It’s a lovely knee.”

Dori blushed furiously.

“You’re only saying that.”

“No. No, I mean it,” Balin told him seriously, shifting himself so that he could face Dori straight on, “I think you’re very beautiful. In fact I think you’re the most beautiful dwarf I’ve ever seen. Every inch of you is wonderful.”

Dori giggled, hiccoughing in between.

“Even my knees?” he teased.

“Especially your knees,” Balin replied giving them a small squeeze before lifting his hands to the sides of Dori’s face, stroking his silver braids reverently, “I should very much like to kiss you now.”

Dori made a small noise of affirmation, afraid that if he opened his mouth he’d say something ridiculous about propriety and put an end to this …. whatever this was. And he most certainly did not want this to stop just now. He leaned forward and gently met Balin’s lips with his own. The hand that stroked his braids tightened slightly and a tongue that carried the flavours of cloves and cinnamon and fruity wine gently explored his mouth.

In that moment Dori seriously considered denouncing tea forever in favour of wine. Particularly if this was the sort of thing it provoked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a fairly new tumblr, feel free to visit. It's not very exciting but it exists so if you like you can find me at silentlagoon.tumblr.com :)


	4. Snowfall

Snow in the Shire

Gently falling through the skies

Like pure white, little butterflies.

Landing on our fields of green,

Falling ‘til our land’s unseen.

Crisp and cold and pure and clean

It stops as we awake from dreams

To see its splendour in the morn,

Ours to enjoy until it’s gone.

Ours to frolic in all the day,

At least until it melts away.

So run little hobbits, treasure this treat,

Remember the feeling of snow on your feet.


	5. Traditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili can't wait to open their presents.
> 
> This is based on a Christmas tradition that my little brother and I have had for about fifteen years now. Our mum thinks we’re too old for it but it’s still very special to us.

It was the same every year. Kili would be the first to wake (as he was everyday) and would clamber into his brother’s bed to rouse him. The rousing varied year to year, sometimes Fili would wake up quite pleasantly to find his baby brother cuddling up to him, other years he was not so lucky. This time around it was a rather wet raspberry blown onto his arm that had him up.

“Ugh! Kili, that’s disgusting!”

His little brother ignored him, instead beaming and holding his small sack of presents up in triumph. Their mother had realised fairly early on as a parent that dwarflings (and sometimes husbands) simply could not stay asleep when there was the hope of presents in the morning. To stop the whispers and creaking floorboards that came with her boys attempting to ‘be quiet’ and to make sure they didn’t open the wrong presents in their enthusiasm, she had devised a scheme to put an end to it.

Two sacks full of gifts would ‘magically’ appear in their room whilst they were sleeping so that they could open them together when they woke. This was also on the condition that they did so when it was light outside, it was all in a contract that was brought out a couple of nights beforehand as a reminder.

“Come on, Fili. Go get yours.”

Fili wriggled out of his blankets and clambered to the edge of his bed. There was his sack, tied with a big, red ribbon as always. It looked fuller than last year.

“We must have been really good this year, Kili,” he said, hoisting his treasures up onto the bed, “Where are we opening them this time? My bed or yours?”

“Mine. We did yours last time.”Kili informed him as he flung his sack over his shoulder and made his way to his own bed with Fili in hot pursuit.

Both dwarflings sat cross legged on the bed and untied the ribbons with gusto.

“Wow! Fili, there’s like a hundred thousand things in here!” Kili squealed.

He opened the mouth of the sack and plunged head first into it.

“Kili. What are you doing?”

“The bestest ones are always at the bottom,” Came the slightly muffled reply. He emerged triumphant, hair plastered across his red face and a boxed gift in hand, “Find yours, Fili! Go on! Let’s open them together!”

Fili rolled his eyes at his brother’s exuberance but he was quite excited himself and so wormed his way into his sack, reaching out for a box like to the one Kili had found (they always had similar gifts).

They tore open the packaging together to reveal intricately carved toys of dwarven warriors, like the pictures they saw in their story books brought to life.

“Kili! Kili, look!” Fili exclaimed, practically bouncing with joy, “It _moves_! The arms move! You can move them around!”

In the next room Dís groaned and tried to block out her sons’ squeals with a pillow.

“They’re breaking the ‘no noise’ rule.” She groused to her husband, who had announced his waking by sliding an arm about her waist.

“No change there then.” He mumbled into the pillow that was between him and his wife.

No change at all.


	6. Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby Ori won't stop crying for anything or anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too happy with this one. Got a bit stuck.

The baby just would not stop crying. He wailed and hollered and screamed and would not stop. Mother had fed him, changed him, and cuddled him. Dori had tried singing and even let him grasp onto one of his braids, which normally meant that it would end up in the baby’s mouth, but not this time. Nori sat in the corner with his fingers stuffed into his ears, pointedly ignoring the commotion so that he would not be dragged into ‘helping’.

Once they had prised little Ori’s fingers off Dori’s hair, he had been lain back down in his cot in the hopes he might sleep. Their mother made to leave as soon as he was down.

“He’s got to learn that he can’t make a fuss over nothing and expect attention.” She told her other sons, encouraging them to follow her out of the room.

“What if he’s sick?” Nori asked.

“He’s not sick. He’s fussing. Leave him alone, he’s got to learn.”

Dori and Nori reluctantly followed their mother but exchanged a glance that said neither of them was happy about it.

Ori still cried; his wails seemed much louder now, if that were possible. Nori fidgeted restlessly with the hem of his sleeve. It was horrid. He couldn’t keep listening to his baby brother cry like this. He quietly rose from his chair and made to sneak out of the room.

“Leave the baby.” His mother called. Her back was turned, how did she know?

“I was going to my room!” Nori protested.

His mother made a sound that suggested she did not quite believe him but did not press the matter.

He popped his head around the open door of the room where his brother was still squawking. Nori tip-toed over to him and peered into the cot.

“Hush,” he cooed, “Come on, Ori, that’s enough.”

He reached over to tickle the lad’s tummy when all of a sudden the tears died down and little hands attached themselves to his wrist. Ori looked mesmerised. Nori pulled back his sleeve and realised what had the little boy so entranced.

It was a very simple thing really. A delicate, golden bell that he had found on the street following the big winter market. He had seen it lying forgotten on the ground, slightly tarnished with dirt and with a small dent in its side. He hadn’t really had a reason to pick it up; he had just thought it was nice and tied it to a piece of scrap ribbon so that he could wear it on his wrist. Sort of like a trinket he supposed. It only produced a soft jingle. Hardly noticeable really, but it had managed to catch Ori’s attention. Nori slid the bell from his wrist and dangled it in front of Ori. His chubby fingers reached out to grab the shiny amusement but it was always pulled out of reach before he could take hold of it.

“He’s a baby, not a cat.” Came Dori’s condescending voice from the doorway.

“He ain’t crying though, is he?”

Ori was definitely not crying. He was far too occupied keeping an eye on the golden bell that twinkled above his head. So shiny and so interesting. But after all that crying he had rather exhausted himself, his eyes were becoming heavy and in no time at all he had drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

“He asleep yet?” their mother asked, appearing behind her sons.

“No thanks to you, you told us to leave him alone!” Nori accused.

“And when have you ever done what I’ve told you to? I knew you’d come in and sort him out if I’d forbidden it. He likes you, you know," she smiled, "Thank you, darling, he’ll be out for hours now.”

She kissed him on the cheek and left him stunned. Dori and Nori stood for some moments in silence, quite shocked at their mother’s behaviour.

“Well,” Dori said at last, “I suppose that’s who you got your sneakiness from after all.”


	7. Wrapping Paper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin Durin was smart and resourceful. A force to be reckoned with in the corporate world. Make him wrap up a box and watch him panic.

Thorin was not happy. Not happy at all. He was the president of a huge corporate empire with various degrees and qualifications to his name. He was smart. He was tactile. So why was he being bested by a bit of paper and sellotape?

It should be easy, this wrapping business, especially with this gift. All it was was a simple rectangular box. Apparently that was the easiest thing to wrap! He didn’t even want to think about the creatively packaged superhero figure for Kili that he had yet to even cut the paper for.

He reached over to his laptop and clicked play on the instructional video he had brought up to help him with this arduous task. _Place the box centrally onto the paper._ Well obviously. _Bring the sides of the paper together in the centre of the box and secure with sellotape._ Ok, well that bit seemed to be alright. What were these people jabbering on about now? Seams in the paper? It was wrapping paper, not a pair of bloody trousers! Folding down triangles? What? He didn’t have enough paper at the ends to make triangles and there was a huge gap down one of the sides.

Thorin stepped away from his ‘creation’. Quite frankly he’d never seen something so hideous in all his life. Everything looked wonky and lumpy; some of the folds had become extremely crumpled from where he had endeavoured repeatedly to get the triangle bits to actually look like triangles. He looked over at the dining room table that was acting as his work station. It was covered in screwed up bits of paper and rolls of tape that he’d long given up any hope of finding the ends of. He steeled himself. He could do this. He was Thorin Durin and he would not be beaten by something as simple as wrapping up a box.

Half an hour later he was forced to ring his sister.

“Dís, I need your help.”

“Hello to you too.”

“Yeah, hi, whatever. Look, Dís, could you come round? I … er … I’m kind of, well, stuck? I guess.”

“Stuck how?” Dís asked, curious as to what her brother had gotten himself into.

“Please. Just come over. Please.”

 

Thorin didn’t answer to the knock on the door, which was unusual to say the least. After her second knock a voice from within called out that she should come in. She walked through the house, seeing no sign of her brother.

“Thorin?” she called.

“Dining room.” Came the reply.

It took every ounce of her being not to laugh and had Thorin not looked so pathetic, she would have. Surrounded by piles of partially wrapped presents, paper and tape stood her brother. Her stupid, big brother who had bits of colourful paper caught in his hair and a strip of duct tape stuck to the side of his face. He looked so helpless.

“H-how?” she managed to ask, dumfounded.

“I was trying to wrap these presents and I couldn’t do it which is stupid because it’s easy and then I got frustrated because the triangles didn’t match and there were gaps everywhere and I can’t find the ends on any of my tapes so I tried duct tape instead and now it’s stuck on my beard and I can’t pull it off.”

Dís took a moment to marvel at how alike her brother was in this moment to her youngest son before going over to help.

“Ok,” she said calmly, “Well really all we need to do is pull the tape off, right?”

“It hurts.”

“We could always cut your beard.”

“Don’t you dare touch my beard!” he growled, “And you can’t pull it off. It might take the hair off too. I googled it.”

Dís sighed and stormed out only to return a few minutes later with a bowl of warm, soapy water and a flannel.

“Sit.” She instructed.

Thorin did as he was told and sat very still as Dís began to dab the edges of the tape with the flannel to loosen them.

“You know, if you were having so much trouble with wrapping, you just could have asked me to do it.” She told him, beginning to peel back some of the loosened tape.

Thorin just mumbled an incoherent response and hissed at the tug on his skin as the offending tape was being lifted away.

“Would you like me to help?” his sister asked, doing her best to not sound patronising, which was really, very difficult.

“Yes please.” He conceded.

Next year, for the sake of his sanity and his beard, he was definitely buying gift bags.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All these are also on my tumblr silentlagoon.tumblr.com  
> All visitors welcome :)


	8. Crackers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been tough on everyone since Bifur's car accident Luckily, Bombur's children are there to make sure that everyone has a normal and happy Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one completely ran away from me and went into places I did not expect. At all.

The first Christmas after Bifur’s car accident had been a sombre affair for his family. Bofur and Bombur had sat in fretful silence at his bedside in the hospital where he lay hooked up to tubes that fed him and helped him breathe. His room was full of machines that beeped and whirred, the tinsel the nurses had used to frame the screens failed to bring much holiday cheer to the sterile room. Bofur couldn’t help but think that no amount of decorating would distract them from the fact that their beloved cousin, who was more like another brother to them, was lying in a coma.

It was cruel really. Bifur had always been a good driver; always careful and always conscientious. All it had taken was a patch of black ice and he had lost control of his car and gone spinning into the side of a lorry.

When the emergency services had arrived and Bifur had been whisked off to the nearest hospital, the police had searched through his wallet and phone and found Bofur as his emergency contact. They had rung whilst he was still at work but barely was the phone down and Bofur was out of the door and calling Bombur.

Lucky, the doctors said. He had been very lucky. Though it hadn’t seemed that way when they were told about the debris that was lodged in their cousin’s skull that the surgeons were unwilling to remove due to the delicacy and danger involved in the procedure. However, no-one was sure what the effects would be of leaving it where it was, and no-one would know until Bifur woke up. It had been two weeks with no change. Apparently Bifur’s brain was still active and it was looking good that he would wake up. It was just a case of waiting.

They had tried to have a normal Christmas for the sake of Bombur’s children. The very youngest were none the wiser as to what was going on, but the elder two, Ilmr and Regin, had been asking questions. How long was Bifur going to be in the hospital? When was he going to come and play with them again?

Bombur and his wife, Fulla, had decided it would be best if the children didn’t go to the hospital just yet. They were still very young and loved Bifur very much. The sight of him pale and bandaged and hooked up to all those machines was thought to be too much for them to deal with. So on Christmas morning they unwrapped their presents as usual and were far too occupied to notice when their father snuck out of the house to join his brother at Bifur’s bedside.

 

The year that followed was tough on everyone. Bifur finally woke up but was not quite the same as he had been before. The part of his brain that dealt with speech had been irreparably damaged, making communication his biggest trial. He had gradually been learning sign language (as had the rest of the family) but it was slow going.

He had moved in with Bofur as he now needed someone around to help him readjust. Everyone said he was doing great, that it was inspiring how positive he’d managed to be about his ordeal; but there were times when his eyes would glaze and he’d sit for hours, not registering anything around him. The sound of a door slamming shut could have him screaming in terror and the migraines that plagued him now could have him holed up in a dark room trying not to move too much in case the agony increased.

When Christmas came, he and Bofur packed the many presents they had bought into the boot of Bofur’s car and made the short trip to Bombur and Fulla’s house. Bifur sat stock still for the entirety of the journey, gripping his seatbelt tightly. Bofur made sure to drive steadily, glancing over to his cousin occasionally to make sure he was coping. As soon as the car had come to a complete stop in the driveway Bifur was out and visibly much happier.

They began loading their arms with the gifts and smiled at the four faces that had appeared in the window of the house. Fulla greeted them at the door with her brood clambering around her, baby on her hip and a new addition in her belly.

“Hello, lads, Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Fulla! Merry Christmas, Bump!”

“Hey!” came Ilmr’s shrill voice, “Bump isn’t even here yet, why are you talking to it?”

“Bump might not be here but it can hear, never hurts to be polite, eh?” he grinned at his little niece.

Bombur had shut himself in the kitchen as usual, fretting over Christmas dinner.

_Turkey?_ Bofur signed to Fulla.

“Oh, don’t get me started. Five o’clock this morning, he’s up and muttering about how he should have got a bucket to put it in. It’s a Nigella thing I think. Honestly, the man’s obsessed!” She sighed. She often worried about her normally placid husband’s ferocity over his turkey.

After the little ones had unwrapped their presents Fulla disappeared to the kitchen to try to help with the cooking (if Bombur permitted it). Ilmr followed her mother, dragging Bofur with her. Bifur settled himself on the sofa with the baby in his lap, quite enjoying his role as babysitter.

“Can I help with anything, dear?” Fulla asked.

“No, no. It’s nearly all done. Don’t get your hopes up though. I’ve mistimed the veg and the turkey’s going to be dry, I just know it. I knew I should have done a Nigella.”

“Don’t be stupid, daddy,” Ilmr piped up, attaching herself to his arm, “It’ll be awesome!”

“There you have it, Bom. Ilmr says it’ll be awesome and so it shall be.” Bofur said.

“It’d be more awesomer with crackers.” The little girl told them.

Bombur chuckled, placing a kiss on top of his daughter’s ginger curls.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

“Er . . . maybe not. Bom,” Bofur whispered, “Bif’s not really . . . okay with loud noises and a cracker bang . . . well . . .”

“Oh of course! How stupid, we should have realised,” Fulla lamented before noticing that her daughter was looking a bit confused at the turn the conversation had taken so went to explain, “Crackers might not be the best idea today, darling. You remember that Bifur had that accident? Well it was a very scary thing to happen and so sometimes he gets a bit upset about bangs and crashes and things like that. So it’d be a bit unfair to be pulling crackers, wouldn’t it?”

Ilmr seemed to consider this for a moment.

“Okay!” she exclaimed brightly and skipped away, completely unfazed.

 

When dinner had finally met Bombur's high standards, everyone began settling around the table to eat and Ilmr and her brother, Regin, appeared, each with armfuls of red and gold crackers.

“Ilmr!” Fulla hissed, “What did I tell you?”

“It’s okay, mum. Me and Regin fixted them!”

“Yeah, mum, they don’t go ‘bang’ any more.”

Bofur reached over and took a cracker from Regin’s arms to inspect.

“Yep, they’ve taken the cracker snaps out. Why didn’t we think of that?” He offered an end to Bombur who took hold and pulled. The cracker came apart with a rip but not bang; the loudest sound being made by the plastic toy that landed with a muffled thud on the tablecloth.

Bifur was no fool. He could easily guess what this silent cracker business was all about. He helped Regin pass out the crackers down the length of the table before pulling him and Ilmr into a warm hug and signed: _Thank you._

It had been a hellish year but at no point had he felt alone. He knew could always count on his family.


	9. Carols

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The line of Durin had always been gifted with the most wonderful voices ... then Fili and Kili came along.

The line of Durin has always been blessed with musicality. Deep, sonorous voices that rang out with confidence and clarity in song were passed on from generation to generation.

So infamous was ‘the voice’ of Durin that a sort of tradition had begun to emerge at public holidays where the heirs to the throne would sing for the people to mark the beginnings of the celebrations.

Dís and Thorin had continued the tradition throughout their years of exile in the hope that any semblance of familiarity might bring light to the dark times that had fallen on them since the dragon had stolen their home.

The winter solstice was one such time. Each year the celebrations would start with the royal line leading the carols before hundreds of paper lanterns were released into the night’s sky to join the multitude of stars that shone above.

Dís, being a natural exhibitionist in her youth, had loved to stand in front of her people and display the voice she had been blessed with. Now she was a woman grown, a widow and a mother. Her days of putting herself at the forefront of everything were well behind her. It was high time the carol service was led by her sons.

It was time the next generation stood up and presented themselves as heirs.

Dís tied off the piece of thread that she had been using to repair the tear in Fili’s tunic and sat back in her chair.

The boys had spent the day having lessons with Balin, learning the lyrics to the song they would sing and the cultural significance of the ritual.

They would be home any minute now, disturbing her moment of peace with their youthful exuberance.

Right on cue her lovely terrors barged through the door, trekking snow across her clean floor. Balin was much more considerate, stomping his boots clean on the mat by the front door. He looked absolutely exhausted but that was generally the look most people wore after a full day with Fili and Kili.

Her boys launched themselves at her, talking and giggling so quickly that it was impossible to know what they were saying.

“Did you have fun?” Dís asked.

“Yes!” they chorused.

“Were you well behaved?”

“Yes!”

“Were they?” she double checked with Balin who nodded in affirmation.

“Go and get yourselves cleaned up for dinner then my little maggots.” She instructed, ushering them out of the room.

“So, how did it go?” she asked Balin.

“Well . . . uh . . . Dís, was your husband much of a singer?”

“Well, Vistri played the flute but, actually now you mention it, I don’t recall hearing him sing, apart from in the tavern of course.”

“Ah. That might explain it then.”

“Explain what? Balin!” she called as he hastily waved goodbye and left. That was strange, Dís thought. And what had her late husband to do with the carols?

“Ama! Can we show you what we’ve done?” Kili asked as he and Fili returned from cleaning themselves up.

“Of course you can, I’d love to hear you!”

She settled herself back into her chair and waited as her boys set themselves up. Fili tugged at Kili’s tunic, trying to make it straight before preening himself and getting ready to begin.

“Mister Balin said that we should stand with our feet apart a bit, so it’s easier to get the breathing right.” Fili told her, very seriously. He took a deep breath in and Kili followed suit.

Then they began to sing.

Except it wasn’t really singing, more like hollering. Squeaky and out of tune. To be honest, Dís wasn’t really sure there was any tune at all. The boys finished up their ‘song’ and stood beaming expectantly at their mother, waiting for her reaction.

“That . . . was definitely something,” she finally said, “I can honestly say I’ve never heard anything like it.”

They gave her identical grins, clearly thinking that she meant it was simply fantastic.

Throughout dinner, Dís just could not get the sound of the caterwauling out of her head. How had this happened? How could she not have _noticed_ this had happened?

Now she really thought about it, Vistri had not been a singer. The only time she had ever heard him sing had been after a few ales. Her memories stirred and she remembered a loud voice, Vistri had always been loud, but . . . oh Mahal! She recalled now how his voice had been croaky at best in song and never ever in tune. Had her sons inherited his noise making instead of the Durin ‘voice’? What were they going to do about the celebrations? What was _Thorin_ going to say?

Soon after the plates had been washed, Thorin returned from his day at the forge. Dís set out his lukewarm meal for him and sent Fili and Kili off to play in their room to give their uncle some peace while he ate.

“We need to talk.” She told him the second she was sure they were out of earshot. He raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Fili and Kili went to learn the carols with Balin today. Turns out there’s a problem.”

“What is it? Can’t they remember the words?”

“Can’t sing.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“They can’t sing, Thorin. Not a note.”

Thorin stared at her, dumbfounded.

“But they’re Durins!”

“Vistri wasn’t though, was he?”

“How bad is it?” Thorin groaned.

“It’s loud. And it’s _bad._ ”

 

Thorin soon got to hear for himself his nephews’ ‘talents’. He sat rigid and pale throughout the entire performance, knuckles white as they gripped the arms of the chair. They were meant to sing in public in two days. Two days and the entirety of his people would have a much loved solstice tradition butchered for them by two oblivious dwarflings.

 

The big day arrived. Dís could barely think straight. It was going to be an utter disaster. Both boys had been bathed, clothed and groomed. Kili had even managed to sit still long enough to have the family braids put in his hair. For once in his life he actually looked presentable.

As night fell Dís took her sons’ little hands in her own and led them out to the mountainside. She left them with Balin who would show them where to stand when they were ready to start. She touched foreheads with both of them.

“Good luck my little maggots.” They giggled at the familiar nickname.

Dís left them to go and stand with Thorin who looked like he might throw up at any moment. They linked hands and prayed for a miracle.

The boys took their places in front of the crowd, the music began to play and they opened their mouths. Thorin and Dís both tensed in anticipation of the disaster that would inevitably come . . . but it didn’t.

Their voices were sweet and perfect, beautiful even. Dís smiled widely through the tears of pride and relief that ran unabashedly down her cheeks and into her beard. She looked over at Thorin who was in a similar position. She chuckled as she heard him give a very manly sniffle.

The solo came to a close and the hoard of dwarves continued the carol, raising their lanterns above their heads and watching them fly away.

_Mahal above lead us not astray_

_Help us craft and be strong through these cold, winter days._

_Give heat to our forges, our homes and our hearts_

_And we’ll keep them blazing as the cold winter starts._

As the crowds dispersed, Balin returned Fili and Kili to their mother.

“Where did that come from?” she beamed, crushing them in a tight hug.

“Did we fool you?” Kili asked, his words muffled as his face was still pressed into Dís’s middle.

“What?”

“We tricked you, didn’t we? You thought we were really bad, didn’t you?”

“You little goblins!” Thorin boomed in outrage, causing Kili to double over laughing. He never could take Thorin’s ‘angry’ voice seriously.

“It was Mister Balin’s idea!” Fili said, pointing an accusatory finger.

Dís straightened up and punched him hard on the arm.

“You are in serious trouble,” she snarled, “Do you realise how worried we were?”

Balin shrugged, looking far too pleased with himself than any dwarf had the right to be.

“It was worth it.”

Dís sighed. It was hard to stay angry when it had been such a lovely surprise. She looked fondly at her sons; Fili, with his father’s looks and Kili with his permanently happy disposition. She was grateful every day that a part of Vistri would live on in them, but thank Mahal they didn’t have his voice.


	10. Hot Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bungo meets Belladonna's parents, though not in the way he would have expected, or liked.

Gerontius Took loved his children. Adored them in fact, even if he couldn’t always remember all their names (to be fair there were twelve of them, it was hard to keep track sometimes). They were all extraordinarily special to him, each one a proper Took, always exploring and getting into exciting scrapes.

Gerontius puffed on his pipe, sending a smoke ring blowing out into the crisp air of the afternoon. He quite enjoyed these quiet days when he could simply watch the world go by.

All of a sudden, the door to the family hobbit hole was flung open by Belladonna, who dashed out, slammed it shut and vaulted the fence.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” her father called, causing her to double take. She had had no idea that he was sitting in the garden.

“Huh?”

“Where are you going, girl?”

“Oh … uh, I’m not sure yet.”

That was very unlike Belladonna, she always at least had an inkling . . . and was that a _blush_ on her cheeks? Tooks did not blush. They were unashamed in all things. Blushing was only for courting couples. Belladonna surely wasn’t courting, he thought.

“Going with anyone are you?” he ventured.

“No.” she said, far too quickly for her father’s liking.

“Hmph. Well, don’t be gone all day, eh? Mother’s making crumpets for supper.”

“I’ll be back before dark. Promise!” she shouted whilst running off down the lane.

Definitely suspicious, Gerontius thought.

 

He spent the remainder of his afternoon in his study. The window had a perfect view of the path that led up to the house, not much could pass by without him noticing from here. So he planted himself in his chair and waited for his daughter to return so he could assess the situation further.  He missed afternoon tea and when he failed to show up for dinner, his wife, Adamanta became extremely concerned and went searching for him.

“What an earth are you doing?” she asked, catching her foolish husband leant over his desk, nose almost touching the window.

“Belladonna’s at the gate,” he replied, his voice fraught with concern, “With a young man!”

Adamanta almost squealed in delight, rushing over to her husband’s side.

“Let me see! Let me see! Oh isn’t he fine. Look at the cut of his waistcoat, very nice.”

“Yes, but who is he? That’s what I’d like to know.

They both peered further into the growing darkness, watching their daughter who had linked hands with the young man.

“He’s a Baggins, I think,” Adamanta said, “Bungo, is it?”

“A Baggins! A Baggins! No, absolutely not. No Took can go about with a Baggins!”

“You know most people would put it the other way round, dear. Now come on he looks nice. Why don’t you invite him in, if you’re so worried? Talk to him.”

“You just want me to do your gossip mongering for you.” He pouted.

“Well of course I do, now go to.” She hoisted him up by his arm and ushered him to the front door.

The light spilled out from the front door onto the couple who were in the middle of a very chaste kiss, the interruption made them jump apart as if they’d been burned.

“Pa! You frightened the life out of me!” Belladonna scolded.

Gerontius simply crossed his arms and locked eyes with the Baggins who dared go near his precious daughter.

“Baggins, isn’t it?”

“Y-yes, sir. Bungo, sir.” The poor boy was a quivering wreck.

“Hmph. You drink hot chocolate?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Better come in then.”

Bungo looked at Belladonna who shrugged; she was just as confused as he was. They followed her father into the warmth of the hobbit hole and were greeted by Adamanta who carried a tray of steaming mugs. Gerontius took two and motioned towards his study. Belladonna made to follow suit but was stopped by her mother.

“No, no, Bella. I need you to help me a moment.”

“But I just –“

“Now, Belladonna.”

She looked back helplessly at Bungo as she was dragged off. The poor fellow seemed to shrink into himself so uneasy was he, but being an entirely respectable hobbit, he graciously took the offered mug of hot chocolate and entered the study where he was bade sit.

Nervously, he took a sip of the chocolate. Under any other circumstances he would have savoured this treat. It was rich and warming and smooth. But under the glare of his lady love’s father it was all he could do to stop his hand shaking and end up sloshing the drink all over himself.

“What are your intentions towards my girl?” the stern hobbit asked suddenly.

Bungo spluttered around his gulp of cocoa.

“P-pardon?”

“Intentions. What are they? Are you courting her?”

“Well, I’m trying to. I mean, that is to say, I _think_ we are. I’ve done the flower bit and the gift bit but it’s so hard to keep track because I want to do it right but then she’ll just go and kiss me out of the blue and I know we shouldn’t without permission and all that but she’s just . . . just …”

“Bella?” Gerontius offered.

“Yes,” Bungo suddenly flushed bright crimson, “Oh! My deepest apologies, I didn’t mean to say all that out loud! I swear I never meant to tarnish her honour in any way.”

Gerontius just laughed, wiping tears away from his eyes.

“Never you mind, boy. She’s a Took and we do courting a little differently to ‘respectable’ folk, is all. You’ve done naught wrong, no tarnishing to be done, I assure you.”

Bungo managed to relax just a bit, that could have gone much worse.  For a moment he thought he’d truly buggered up everything.  He took a reassuring sip from his mug and allowed himself a very small smile.

Gerontius meanwhile had moved out into the hall and shouted out to his daughter.

“For a Baggins he’s alright! Permission granted or whatever it is you need to keep hobnobbing with these respectable hobbits!”

“I hate you!” came the equally loud reply. There was no real fire in those words and only her mother was privy to the look on Belladonna’s face that was part frustration at her father’s bluntness and mostly relief that her beau had been met with approval.


	11. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dís hates sleeping alone, even more-so when it's cold.

It was on nights like these that most dwarves realised they had taken the comforts of Erebor for granted. The heat of the forges that permeated through the stone of the mountain had been their main source of heat, but they had no mountain now. No forges that blazed day and night. Forced out into the harshness of the wilderness, the dwarves’ only shelter came from canvas tents that often had thin gaps that were no match for the strong, bitter winds.

Most families would try to squeeze as many as possible into one tent to keep as much heat between them as they could. Until recently Dís had had a similar set up with her brothers. When she had been small it had been no bother even as the boys grew they could still fit quite comfortably, but when Dís began to catch up the tent had become too crowded.

They had tried their best to make it work, shifting positions that would allow them all to slot in, but when their tent collapsed one evening due to their scrabbling around, their father declared that enough was enough. The next day Dís was presented with a tent of her own.

 

She pulled the furs tighter around her. It was so cold. The wind whistled around her canvas shelter, chilling her right through. The cold she could just about deal with, but the solitude was something else entirely.

She had been too young when the dragon came to remember Erebor, so as far as she was concerned, she had never spent a night alone.  There had always been someone there.

She screwed her eyes shut and tried to block out her thoughts so that she could sleep and be done with this loneliness, but sleep would not come. Frustrated, she sighed and crawled out into the night.

It was so still. From some of the nearby tents she could hear muttered voices and from others deep snores; she could hear her parents’ hushed tones, sombre and soft. She crossed to the tent neighbouring hers and crawled inside.

Thorin and Frerin lady side by side, peaceful in sleep, but the blast of cold air caused by her entrance made them stir. They moved apart just enough for Dís to burrow in between them. They felt like fires after being in the cold outside.

“You’ll get in trouble, Dís.” Thorin mumbled. Clearly she hadn’t been as clandestine as she thought.

“Don’t care. I don’t like it on my own.”

“Father won’t be pleased.”

“Father’s never pleased.” Frerin pitched in, his voice thick with sleep. He slung an arm across his little sister, making it abundantly clear that she wouldn’t be spending the rest of the night alone.

Thorin frowned, having never been one for disobeying orders, but he soon conceded and draped his own arm over Frerin’s, effectively cocooning Dís between them.

“I missed you.” She whispered.

“You were only on your own a few hours.” Frerin chuckled.

“I know, but I didn’t like it.”

The warmth from her brothers and the soothing, steady beats of their hearts on either side of her soon had her dozing.

“I love you.” She mumbled.

The brothers locked eyes above her head and smiled, each giving their sister a small, reassuring squeeze that meant that they knew and that they loved her too. Very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr (silentlagoon.tumblr.com) feel free to drop by :)


	12. Candlelight (smut)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin always seems to be cock-blocking his sister and his new brother in law. They're beginning to wonder if he's doing it on purpose.

Vistri had never really thought too long on the idea of marriage. He had guessed that if he ever did marry it would be a political match, not for love. Well technically this marriage _was_ political, it was just a miraculous bonus that his chosen bride was an incredible dwarrowdam with whom he’d been secretly courting; and hadn’t that been a pleasant surprise.

Dís was faultless. He adored every inch of her. Right from her raven locks all the way down to the ice blocks that pretended to be her feet.

It had been several months since their wedding and things were perfect. Well, almost perfect.

Aside from their wedding night, the couple had not had much opportunity to enjoy each other intimately. Much to their frustration. This was mostly due to Thorin. Vistri had had not objections to moving in with Thorin as well as Dís when they were wed. He liked Thorin, he understood that he and Dís had been through much together and that separation would be unbearable for them both.

What Vistri could not understand was how his brother in law was always managing to interrupt them when things got heated.

 

For example, a few weeks earlier, Vistri had woken to the very pleasant feel of his wife’s hand wrapping around his cock and her knee nudging against his sac. He had kissed her passionately, losing himself in the softness of her lips and the firmness of her hand. Then the door to their chamber had burst open and in marched Thorin, all talk of the day’s work and why were they still abed?

This was not the first time, nor would it be the last. A part of Vistri wondered if he was doing it on purpose.

Two months began to get closer to three and after an evening of terrific snogging that was cut short (again) by Thorin (again) Vistri decided that something had to be done.

 

Confronting Thorin in his forge may not have seemed the best idea in the world, what with all the heavy tools in easy reach, but it had to be done. 

Thorin gave a brief, gruff nod to acknowledge he’d seen Vistri and continued to hammer the blade he was working on.

“Do you have a moment, Thorin?”

“Is it important?”

“Yes.”

Thorin ceased his hammering, wiped his hands clean and beckoned Vistri toward a bench.

“Make it quick then. I’ve got lots to be getting on with.”

Vistri steeled himself.

“Right. Well, I was just wondering if it were possible for Dís and I to have the house to ourselves tonight?”

“Why?”

“Well . . . you know, to spend some time together.”

“You’re together every day.”

Seriously? Was he _that_ oblivious? There was nothing for it, he’d have to be blunt.

“Thorin, do you know how long I’ve been married to your sister?”

“About three months.”

“Yes, and in those three months do you know how many times we’ve slept together?”

Thorin frowned, suddenly not liking this conversation at all.

“Now see here …”

“Twice, Thorin. Twice. Because every time we try, _you_ always seem to be there! I don’t know how you do it. It’s like you have a sixth sense or something!”

“So you’re asking me to leave so you can defile my sister in peace?” Thorin growled.

“No! What? This is what married dwarves do, you know, when they want to start a family.”

This was insane. Vistri couldn’t he was having what was essentially a ‘birds and bees’ conversation with Thorin Oakenshield.  It just got stranger when Thorin started laughing. Not his usual ‘hmph’ that was somewhere between a cough and a chuckle, but a full belly laugh. He finally composed himself enough to explain his mirth.

“Sorry. Sorry, Vistri I shouldn’t have done that. I had no idea I’d been interrupting. Of course I’ll get out of your hair.”

“You – you don’t mind?”

“Look, I may not be entirely comfortable with the idea of my sister involved in such activities but as you say, you are married. So in future just tell me if I’m underfoot, alright?”

 

Dís returned home just as the sky was darkening. As she hung up her cloak she realised that it was oddly quiet.

“Vistri?” she called, “Thorin?”

She heard bare feet running down the stairs and shortly her husband had appeared and was dragging her by her hand up to their room. He was dressed in nothing but trousers and a loose tunic that displayed much of his golden chest hair.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked.

He turned to her and gently cupped her face.

“I’ve got a surprise for you. Tonight we are completely alone; free to do as we wish. Your brother is off drinking with Dwalin, with the assurance that he will not return until dawn and I’m not sure if I left the taper burning so that’s something I should check on.”

He hurriedly flew through the doorway leaving Dís to follow in bewilderment. She gasped when she saw what he had done to their chamber. There were candles on every surface, all shapes and sizes and all giving off a beautiful yellow light that flickered and sent long shadows up the walls.

Vistri gently pulled her further in, lightly kissing her jaw and neck, making her hum in pleasure.

“Just us?” she checked.

“Just us.”

Far too eager to bother with undressing each other, they shucked their clothing as quickly as they could between sloppy kisses and gentle nips. Once they were both naked, Vistri stopped to admire his beautiful princess. He ran a hand down her spine, feeling her muscles tense and relax beneath his hand. He drank in the sight of her slight curves that were accentuated by the candlelight.

As he guided her down onto the bed, he carded his fingers through her hair, giving a slight tug that made her moan loudly. Her legs instinctively went to wrap around his body, pulling him closer to her. A roll of her hips brought her wet folds rubbing against his manhood, he growled softy, hiding his face in the crook of her neck and breathing in her scent.

Beneath him, Dís’s little moans became more pleading. She knew there was no need to rush but after such a long time without his touch, she wanted everything and she wanted it now. She pushed a hand that was kneading her breast southwards and Vistri caught onto her meaning, stroking her folds before gently pressing a finger inside of her. She arched her back, the glow of the flames making her look ethereal in her lust.

As a second, thick finger joined the first Dís could feel her pleasure building; as Vistri curled them inside her she cried out, her whole body tensing from her orgasm. Shakily, she reached out to grab him by his braids and pulled him in for a deep kiss. She could feel his cock, hot and hard on her stomach; she gave it a few languid strokes before whispering in his ear:

“I want you to cum in me.”

He let out a shaky breath, quickly readying himself at her entrance. He pushed in, delighting in the tightness and heat around him. He stilled, allowing Dís to adjust before he gave an experimental thrust. It was too good for him to last, he picked up his pace and Dís matched his thrusts. For a while the room was filled with the sounds of their skin slapping against each other and their pants and moans that mingled together in open mouthed kisses until Vistri’s hips faltered and he came deep inside his beautiful wife.

As she was filled, Dís turned her head into the pillow, muffling her cries; it was then that something at the end of the bed caught her eye.

“Oh Mahal!” she yelped.

“Mmmm.” Vistri hummed in sated agreement.

“Vistri! The bed’s on fire!”

“What?”

He looked sharply behind him and sure enough, the corner of their bedding was smouldering thanks to a toppled candle. He hastily grabbed a pillow and beat out the flames. There was a moment of silence as they both watched the smoking sheets, as if they would light again if they looked away.

“Do you think we should maybe blow the others out?” Dís giggled.

Vistri nodded and made a start. It was a shame, thought Dís; she was quite enjoying the way the light bounced off the sheen of sweat on his body. But really they couldn’t afford to lose anymore bedding.

They left one candle burning on the bedside table which provided just enough light for them to see each other’s silhouettes in the darkness as they lay huddled side by side. Utterly content. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cranking up the rating. I honestly did not intend for this chapter to go this way. I haven't written sexy times before so sorry if it's terrible. *runs and hides*


	13. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dori's mother was touched with wanderlust, settling just was not in her nature.

Rind would never admit to having a home. If anyone asked, she would say that she had had too many to call any one place her ‘home’; she had spent too much time out in the wild and never spent enough time in one place to feel any sort of attachment. All this was utter rot. She did have a home, though admittedly it had moved many times.

After Erebor fell, Rind developed a serious case of wanderlust. For many weeks she travelled with the main group of survivors but something itched in her. All of a sudden there was no mountain, no expectations, and no social niceties that had to be obeyed. She could go anywhere, do anything. And so not long after their exile she broke away from the main group and joined a caravan, she didn’t know where they were going, she didn’t care.

 After a lifetime of being prim and proper and smiling and serving her husband, she was suddenly free. Free to take her now fatherless child and go wherever she pleased.  Not that she hadn’t mourned, of course. Dori’s father had been kind and courteous and had never done a thing to wrong her. But Rind had never loved him, not as she should have. She was not even sure she believed in this notion of a One.  She had _liked_ her husband, certainly, and she loved Dori with all her being, but that stood to reason, he was a part of her. His father had just been an addition.

A fragment of her felt such guilt as Dori obligingly followed her on this mysterious journey. Poor lad, always so eager to please, to not make a fuss, but she could see in his eyes the doubt and the fear. One evening, while sitting huddled together by the campfire she wrapped an arm around him and held him close.

“I suppose you wonder why I did it,” she said, “Why I took us away from the others.”

There was a pause and Dori shifted a little, uncomfortable that he’d been put on the spot.

“I just don’t understand. We were safe with the others, weren’t we?”

“No safer than with this lot,” she told him, indicating the ragtag group of dwarves and men that shared the fire, “We have to start anew and I thought why not do so on our own? I’ve always been told what to do, what to wear, where to go, who I should mix with. I know I’ve been luckier than most with my upbringing, love, don’t get me wrong. But I was never suited to the noble life. This is a chance for me to start over. As myself.”

“Do you wish I wasn’t here?” Dori asked, very quietly, as if afraid of the answer.

Rind laughed and peppered his face with kisses which met with a few chuckles from their companions.

“Don’t be foolish. I adore you, my jewel. You are the best thing to happen to me, this is our adventure, Dori. Our chance. Just the two of us.”

 

Some weeks later the caravan stopped in a village of men. It was simple but friendly. It transpired that they were not the only dwarves to try and make their own way to a new home for there were a handful of little families who had begun to settle.

“I think this is it. I think we’ll stay here, for good.” Rind announced as they wondered between the wooden houses.

But even the best laid plans go to waste, for as more dwarves arrived, the more the menfolk became agitated by their presence. There were too many dwarrows and not enough work or food. Tensions began to fray and so one night Rind took herself to the tavern to find news of a caravan.

Instead she found Nabbi. Nabbi was not an Erebor survivor, nor did he give any mountain of origin. He introduced himself as a wanderer and jack of all trades. He was lithe where other dwarves were stocky, he had no craft to speak of and hated being underground. He was unlike any dwarf Rind had ever met and she loved him. Instantly.

That very night she returned home with Nabbi by her side. She woke Dori and explained that they were going away again and that Nabbi was going with them. He could fight, she told him, they’d be protected.

The years passed and the three of them travelled, sometimes settling for a few months in a village or hamlet along the way but nothing ever stuck. Nothing was permanent. Rind _knew_ Dori hated it. She knew that he wanted somewhere to stay for good but she could not help herself. She would follow Nabbi to the ends of the earth if it meant she got to be with him. She often scolded herself for thinking such silly things; he was only a dwarf after all, but he was her dwarf and she wanted him.

They did stop, eventually, but only because of the babe. Nabbi had been delighted to find that Rind was with child. Dori had been furious. All the years of pent up frustration and anger came pouring out.

“How could you?” he roared, “You’re not even married, Ama! Have you forgotten everything that we were before? Did Adad mean so little to you that you can move on so easily?”

Tears poured in hot waves down his cheeks. For years he had tolerated the traveling, he had be civil to Nabbi as there travelling companion. He knew in his heart the true nature of the strange dwarf’s relationship with his mother, but he’d never been told explicitly so he had pretended that it wasn’t real.

But now there was proof of their dalliances. There would be a child and Dori could not stand it. He missed his Adad and he missed his mother. All her love was with Nabbi now. Not him. If she had loved him at all she would have stopped long ago. He calmed himself enough to tell her that he was staying in the town they had stopped by in. He was old enough to be apprenticed now, he could take care of himself and he clearly wasn’t needed anymore.

Rind had tried to stop him. Pleaded with her son not to go. She tried to interfere with his packing, crying all the while.

“Stop, Ama. Just stop. You’ll upset the babe. I’ll be fine. I just . . . I can’t live like you anymore. I can’t do it,” Dori murmured, taking her in his strong arms, “You have Nabbi. You’ll be alright.”

With that he picked up his pack and left without another word.

They did not move again. Nabbi had wanted to but Rind was adamant. She would not leave her son, even if he did not want her around. She would not lose him and besides, travelling whilst pregnant could not be considered a good idea.

The weeks passed and Rind found herself growing accustomed to the town. She made sure to stop by the tailors, where Dori had secured work, as often as she could without looking suspicious. She would make light conversation with her son in the hopes that he would forgive her and that he would see that she could do it. That she could settle down.

As the weeks turned into months and Rind’s belly grew, so did the itch in Nabbi’s feet. He needed to go _somewhere_ even if it was just a couple of days hiking to the next town. He pleaded with Rind, just a week a most, to rid himself of the itch and he’d be back. She could not refuse him and so sent him off with a kiss and a smile.

The week ran over and he had not returned, it was possible he had just been delayed. It happened, you never could truly tell how long a journey would take, but as one week turned into two, Rind began to worry.

Dori opened the door to his home to find his mother, pale and tear stained on his doorstep.

“I’m sorry,” she babbled, “I’m so sorry to do this, my love, but I don’t know what else to do. I’d go myself but with the size of me now, I don’t think I could get there.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Dori sighed. His mother had never been very good at telling a story from the beginning.

“Nabbi took a short trip. He was meant to be back a week ago but there’s been no sign. Oh, I’ve been such a fool. What reason would he have to stay?”

“He stayed because he loves you, Ama. Anyone with eyes can see that. Look, come in, don’t get so het up, I’m sure there’s an explanation.”

Dori led his mother inside, settling her in front of the fire. They talked for a while, trying to decide which direction Nabbi would have gone and within the hour, Dori was out the door and off to find him. He had not entirely forgiven Rind, but he would have to be a cruel idiot to let her suffer and he truly did not believe that Nabbi would abandon her now.

He had been right on that count. Upon reaching an inn a mile ahead of the town Nabbi supposedy visited, he discovered that a sickness had come. It was quick and deadly. The town had been cut off from visitors but missives had been sent to the inn, should family members come searching for passers through. Dori was shown the list of the deceased who had not been residents and there, was his name. **Nabbi, Dwarf**.

His mother sobbed for her lost love. Her grief was far greater than any she had experienced, she wept for Nabbi and for the babe that would never be held by him. Dori insisted she stay with him, promised to help her raise the child. Once she had no more tears to give she took herself off to bed but when Dori awoke with the dawn, she was gone.

It is not hard to track a heavily pregnant dwarrowdam. Size alone makes them stick out quite considerably and they are slow, as Dori discovered, very slow. He’d caught up with Rind in no time at all.

“Are you mad? You’re _pregnant_ , Ama. You can’t just go running off into the wilderness as you please.”

“I can’t stay there,” she replied, “I’ll find somewhere else, I promise. I’ll settle. Just not there. It’s all him there. Go back, you have a life there. Go and live it.”

Dori sighed.

“Don’t be dense. As if I’d leave you out here on your own. I figured you’d be moving on. I’ve got enough food to last us a while and some warmer clothes; really, you’d think you’d have packed more thoroughly.”

He slotted his hand into hers, as he had done as a young dwarfling and began the slow trudge with her to who knows where.

Nori was born under the stars on a surprisingly cool autumn evening. They had been just within sight of a settlement when Rind had felt the first pangs of labour. It had hurt less than with Dori and was thankfully much quicker.

“It’s like he couldn’t wait to meet us.” Dori chuckled, wrapping his little brother in swaddling. He gently passed him over to Rind, who rested exhausted against a tree, and sat close to her.

Rind allowed herself a smile. It didn’t matter about where they were, whatever happened she had her boys. That was her home.


	14. Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dís still grieves for her husband and the first Yule without him is hard. It is also tough on young Fili and Kili who desperately want their family to be whole again.

The night before Yule was traditionally a night of great excitement for dwarflings. When the dawn broke there would be gifts to unwrap, games to play and delicious foods to eat. So it was understandable that many would not be sleeping on the eve of the most exciting day of the year.

Fili and Kili were terrors for getting up before the sun around this time of year. Knowing that they had to wait for their parents to rise meant that pretty much every half hour throughout the night, two little heads would peer around the door to check in on Ama and Ada’s sleeping forms.

Naturally they got caught and Vistri would be the one to haul them over his shoulders and take them back to their own beds. Dís could normally hear them giggling as their father tickled them for disturbing his sleep.

“The day will come sooner if you sleep,” he would tell them, “If you wake and it’s still dark that means that it’s too early to rise and dwarflings who wake too soon don’t get gifts.”

This would send both boys dashing to their beds where they pulled their blankets high under their chins and buried their faces into their pillows. Vistri would kiss both their heads softly before returning to his own bed and his wife.

But this year he wasn’t there.

An orc pack had ventured close to their borders in the spring with the promise of more to follow. Their warriors had set out to meet them head on, Vistri amongst them. He returned with a deep gash across his stomach that had been bound and cleaned as best the healers could but he had been weakened and when it became apparent that the wound was infected there was little to be done. The infection was too far gone to save him. Dís spent three days and three nights with him. She held him as violent shivers wracked his body, wiped the stale sweat from his brow. On the third day his speech began to slow and his breathing became laboured. His bright eyes were dim now; she could see the life fading from him.

He died in her arms. His last breath rattling against his chest, she felt his life leave him but she could not let go. She wept into his golden hair, clinging to him as he turned cold. She finally drew away, placing a final kiss to his lips, once pink and smiling, now blue and still.

She missed him every day but as time went it got easier. The hurt lessened into a dull ache but there were times when the grief reared its head again and she could barely think from missing him. Their name days had been the hardest so far. They tried to carry on as usual, but there was a definite hole in their celebrations where Vistri should have been.

Now, on the eve of their first Yule without him, the grief had come again. Dís lay alone is a bed that was too big for just one dwarf. Every year, she and Vistri would doze with their limbs intertwined, listening out for the sounds of the boys waking too early. He would stroke his fingers through her hair as they whispered to each other, inane things, nothing of importance but now that he was gone Dís clung to the memory of those quiet conversations. She willed herself to sleep, hoping to dream of him.

Around midnight, she was woken by the creak of floorboards. She groaned. Too early, as usual. She rolled over to see Fili nervously standing by her head.

“Go back to bed.” She told him.

“Kili’s crying,” he told her quietly, sounding as if he might cry himself, “He won’t stop.”

“What happened?”

“He got up to go get Ada for tickles like normal. I think . . . I think he forgot.” Fili chewed at his lip, trying desperately not to cry, but the tears fell anyway.

Dís got out of bed and knelt to hug him.

“It’s alright. I forget too, sometimes.”

“I’m sorry I woke you up.” The little boy sobbed into her shoulder.

“No, no, don’t be sorry. You were just being a very good big brother. Now let’s go see to Kili.”

Kili had curled up in a ball inside his blankets which shook as he sobbed. Dís pulled them back and tried to coax him out of the tight position he had adopted.

“Come on now, enough tears, Kili. Enough.”

“I w-want Ada!” he screamed, his face was red and wet, his small chest heaving with the effort.

“I know, sweetheart. But Ada’s not here. Kili, please breathe, you’ll make yourself sick.”

“Good. I want to be sick, then I will die and then I can be with Ada.”

“Don’t say that!” Dís suddenly yelled, grabbing Kili’s shoulders, “Don’t you ever say that!”

She had never cried in front of her sons but she knew she was now. Kili was so stricken that his mother had yelled at him that he had stopped his tears.

“I need you here, Kili,” she told him, softly this time, “You and Fili. I need you. Don’t leave me.”

“I miss him.” Kili said, plaintively.

“I miss him too. All the time. But we can’t cry about it forever. Do you think he’d like it if we spent all our time wishing him back, being melancholy?”

Kili shook his head. Fili clambered onto the bed beside him.

“Ada liked us to smile.” He said.

“He did. He was always happy if we were.” Dís opened her arms and both boys took the invitation willingly. Their hands twisted themselves into her night shirt and their faces buried into her chest.

“Can we sleep with you tonight?” Fili asked.

“For what’s left of it, and then in the morning we can open your gifts and Uncle Thorin will visit and we can have a happy day, can’t we?”

“Like Ada would want.” Kili agreed.

“Exactly like Ada would want.”


	15. Roaring Fires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dori has a secret and Nori and his mother are determined to find out what it is.

“Mam, do you think Dori’s dead?” Nori asked with his mouthful of food, glancing over to Dori’s empty chair.

“What makes you think he’s dead?”

“Well he ain’t here. Dori’s always here.”

“He _isn’t_ here. Not ‘ain’t’. I’m sure he has his reasons.”

Nori shifted uncomfortably in his seat. For all his bravado and the disagreements he regularly had with his brother, he did care for him and it was so unusual for him to be late.

A few minutes later a rather flushed Dori burst through the front door, red faced from the cold outside.

“Sorry,” he blustered, “I’m so sorry. I completely lost track of time.”

“It’s fine, it’s not exactly late, dear.” Rind told him.

“Where were you, Dori?” Nori asked his brother who coughed slightly around his mouthful of food.

“Uh … just with a friend.”

Rind looked up suddenly from her meal. She had never heard Dori use that tone before. As if he was hiding something but was secretly quite happy about whatever it was. That was definitely something worth investigating.

After dinner, Dori insisted he clear away to make amends for his lateness which Nori and Rind were more than happy to let him do. They retired to the parlour where Rind lit a pipe. She passed it across to Nori, thinking he was probably old enough to have a taste now. His eyes lit up and took it eagerly.

“Don’t inhale too deeply. Savour it.” She advised.

He puffed on the pipe in the way that he had seen others do. The smoke tickled the back of his throat with an unusual burn and he tried to stop the cough that was building in his chest. Rind smiled when she saw Nori’s face go red as he attempted to conceal his wheezing.

“Let it out, there’s no shame in a cough on your first try.”

Nori let out his breath, gasping in a cloud of smoke. He handed the pipe back.

“Don’t like it.”

“That’ll probably change. Now, what are we going to do about your brother?”

“What do you mean, Ma?”

“He’s hiding something, and what do we say about secrets?”

“No secrets between family.”

“Precisely, reckon you’re up to doing a bit of spying for me?”

Nori nodded enthusiastically. If there was one thing he and his mother loved it was gossip and the chance to dig some dirt on perfect Dori was a golden opportunity. Nori was very good at sneaking around, listening in on extremely private conversations and though he wasn’t always sure what they meant, his mother could always be relied on to shed some light.

 

For the next few days, Nori occupied himself by tailing his older brother. It was highly uneventful. Dori would go to work, he’d buy groceries, he’d come home. It was so boring. After one afternoon spent staking out Dori’s work place he was just about ready to call it quits and tell his mother she’d imagined the whole secrecy business when Dori did something unimaginable. He left work early.

Nori sat up straight on the rooftop that acted as his lookout. He watched Dori run a hand across his braids to ensure they were nothing less than perfect as he set a quick pace across town. Nori followed, jumping from roof to roof, carefully keeping half an eye on any turns that his brother made.

He watched him turn off into a narrow street and disappear through a door to an establishment that declared itself a tea shop from a delicately painted wooden sign that swung in the breeze.  Nori scanned the horizon; there was no rooftop that could give him a decent view of the shop. He doubled back a couple of roofs and clambered down the guttering he had spotted during his pursuit.

Now with his feet firmly back on the ground he took a windy route to the tea shop, making sure to not pass it directly. It was windy enough for him to justify pulling his hood up over his head, as if he were trying to protect his hair from a battering. It obscured his face enough so that he could make his way through the shop, taking a brief note of where Dori was sitting and found himself a seat in a shady corner.

He ordered a mug of steaming chocolate, knowing that Ama would reimburse his expenses, and scanned the room to find his brother’s seat again. Dori was not alone at his table, sat opposite him was a dwarf Nori definitely recognised.  

Not too long ago a dwarf claiming to be a royal advisor had come knocking on their door, asking after Rind. Nori had been shut out of the parlour while they talked but he knew where the walls were thinnest so that he could listen in. He hadn’t caught all of it but he had got a good gist of things. Ama was of old Durin blood, the strange dwarf had said, she knew how things were for women of the Durin line. Apparently they’d realised that the princess needed a woman’s guidance in certain areas, though what those areas were, Nori had no clue.

Rind had gone with him after that conversation and often times after the visit she would go to spend the day with the princess. Nori often asked what they talked about on these visits but his mother refused to say, saying that it was woman’s business and not her place to tell.

Nori hadn’t seen the dwarf who had come that day since, but here he was now, talking with Dori. He racked his brains, trying to remember his name; Palin, was it? No, Balin. It was definitely Balin. His cocoa arrived and he took a long sip, looking over the rim of his mug to see if he could make out what was being said between Balin and his brother.

They were too far away for him to hear above the chatter and clinking of mugs and his lip reading wasn’t all that good yet. He watched as Dori reached over to the little teapot that was gently steaming and poured the amber brew into two cups. He reached for the honey pot at the same instance as Balin, their fingers brushed but they did not draw them away as any other dwarves would do. Instead, Balin chuckled and locked his fingers securely through Dori’s, making him blush but his smile was broad.

Nori sat stock still with his mug halfway to his lips. No. Way. Dori was _courting?_ Who’d want to court Dori? He was prissy and fussy and didn’t know how to have any fun. He wanted to get out of that stupid shop as fast as he could, he’d got in alright but getting out was harder. He looked around, trying to figure out an escape route but he couldn’t see one. He’d just have to sit and pointedly not look at what was going on across the room.

Finally, Dori and Balin got up to leave. Balin left a small pile of coins on the table before going to hold the door open, letting in a blast of cold air. Nori could see them as they stood outside the frosted window, readjusting their cloaks. Thankfully they seemed to be saying their goodbyes, but then they were kissing! Ew, actually full on, proper kissing. Nori was absolutely repulsed. Dori wasn’t supposed to go kissing people and he certainly wasn’t meant to look as though he was enjoying it! They broke apart and walked hand in hand past the window and out of Nori’s sight. Thank Mahal.

He pulled out the money for the hot chocolate, throwing it down before rushing out of the shop and sprinting home.

 

“Ma! Maaaa!” he yelled throwing open the door, it swung so violently that it banged against the wall.

“Gently with the door, Nori!” his mother called from the next room.

He ran through the house, sliding to a stop in the kitchen.

“Ma! You’ll never guess what!”

Rind turned to her youngest and tutted at the state of him. His hair was flying out all over the place, his cloak was all skewwhiff and his cheeks were ruddy.

“What have you been doing? Look, come and get yourself sorted out.”

She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him through the house, picking up a hairbrush on the way. She plonked herself down in her chair and made him sit on the floor between her legs. She unclasped his cloak and began unravelling his braids.

“Now, what’s got you in this tizzy?”

“I was following Dori, like what you told me to and I saw him having tea with this bloke and they were _kissing_ , Ma, and holding hands and everything. It was gross.”

Rind started to gently brush her son’s hair.

“I did wonder,” she smiled, “Did you know who the gentleman was?”

“Yeah, it was that Balin. That one who come for you that time.”

The brushing ceased abruptly.

“No! Balin? _Lord_ Balin?”

“I dunno if he’s a lord, Ma.”

“Oh, he is. Are you sure it was him, Nori?”

“No braids, going a bit grey, bit on the short side.”

“Well bless my beard. I always thought our Dori would do well should he ever take to courting, but this is a high standard even for him.”

“Really, why would he do well?”

“Because Dori is very much like his father. He has the old ways about him; all that politeness that irks you so much is a very desirable quality for a lot of nobility. Plus it helps that he’s absolutely gorgeous.”

Nori made a retching sound and twisted around so that his mother could see on his face how much he disagreed with that statement. She laughed heartily.

“Well of course you don’t think he is, what with him being your brother, but trust me, Dori’s a catch.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while as Rind redid Nori’s braids, sweeping his hair into the peaks that he loved so much.

“You always talk like the nobs are different from you, Ma. I know I’m not, but you and Dori are.”

“Were. We were. I think I rather sullied our family name I’m afraid. Two sons with different fathers, it’s positively shameful, you know.”

She was never afraid to be blunt with Nori, he didn’t care about propriety or class or ancient bloodlines, same as her. He was far too happy to live in the moment than be looking back into the past.

“But that don’t change anything. You’re still noble.”

“Not really, it wasn’t ever me. You and I are cut from a different cloth. Now bugger off and get yourself a biscuit. That was some first rate sleuthing you did today.”

Nori jumped up and looked at her with puppy-dog eyes.

“I had to watch them kiss, Ma.”

“Fine. Two biscuits for my brave boy.”

 

  
Dori quietly closed the door with a faint click. He couldn’t believe how late it was. Thank fully everyone would be in bed and he could just pretend like he hadn’t been out all night. He hung up his coat and placed his boots down neatly next to the pile of mismatched pairs that belonged to his mother and brother.

He made for the stairs but noticed a light from under the parlour door. It seemed mother had forgotten to put out the fire again. He was tempted to leave it and if they all burned in their sleep then serve her right, but Dori was not a dwarf who could leave a chore unfinished.

Upon entering the room, he quickly realised that he was not the only one awake. His mother had pulled the sofa forward and was sat in front of a blazing fire, puffing away on her pipe. She turned when Dori entered and patted the empty seat next to her which he took.

“We need to have a chat.”

“I really am sorry, Amad. I honestly don’t know what’s got into me lately. I don’t mean to be so late. Truly, I don’t.”

Rind just chuckled and slung an arm across his shoulders, pulling him close. He was never too old for a hug.

“Don’t be daft, you silly thing. As if I of all people could chastise you for staying out. No, what I wanted to talk about was a certain Lord Balin.”

Dori tensed.

“Why? Wh-what’s he got to do with anything?”

“Well, a little birdy told me that you’ve been seen taking tea together, I hear he’s quite familiar with you. So care to elaborate?”

“It’s not anything, really,” Dori mumbled, embarrassed at having been caught out, “We just talk and have tea.”

“And hold hands and share kisses if my sources are anything to go by.”

Dori frowned slightly.

“You know, I had the strangest feeling I was being watched today. You’ve been sending Nori out to spy for you again, haven’t you?”

Rind shoved the end of the pipe in his mouth to quieten him.

“Now, I am exceedingly happy that things are clearly going well, but I would be a terrible mother if I didn’t press you for information. So talk. How long’s it been going on?”

Dori allowed himself a soppy smile.

“Since just after his first visit here. We bumped into each other in the market and just started talking. He’s so lovely, Ama but …”

He stopped suddenly.

“But what?” she prompted, but Dori remained silent.

She didn’t push him. They just sat together, watching the flames lick the crackling logs in the hearth. Bright sparks rose up with vibrancy before fading to nothing and darkness.

“I’m not good enough for him.” Dori said eventually, in a tiny voice.

“Why on earth would you think something like that?”

“He’s a noble. He’s the chief royal advisor for Mahal’s sake! And I’m just a bastard tailor.”

Rind was genuinely surprised, she knew he hadn’t used his father’s name for many years but she had no idea that he seemed to have rejected him completely.

“Darling, you aren’t a bastard. Nori is, and he wears it like a badge but that’s not you, at all. I know I’ve never really acted like it, but I was married once remember? Balin is a very decent fellow and, if I may say, utterly your type. If he ever thought you weren’t good enough then he wouldn’t deserve you, but seeing as how he’s being quite public with his affections, I’d say you’ve naught to fear.”

Dori wrapped his arms around her middle as thanks for her words.

“Stop calling yourself a bastard. Use your father’s name. I never wanted to drag you down into the gutter with me.”

“You didn’t. I followed. But … I think I would like to use father’s name. More to remember him by though, nothing else.”

The fire still burnt with an unyielding ferocity, filling the room with soporific warmth. Rind felt her eyes grow heavy; she lowered her head to breathe in the scent of Dori’s hair, something that had always brought her comfort and she wrinkled her nose in amusement.

“You need to go wash, you smell like sex.” She told him.

He jumped up with a yelp.

“I – I …” he stammered, wringing his hands together guiltily.

She threw a cushion at him.

“Oh go on with you! Too late for acting all innocent now! Don’t go looking all ashamed of yourself, you’re far too pleased to pull it off, I can tell. Now bugger off and get some sleep.”

He smiled sheepishly and made to go but she called him back.

“Dori, you are happy, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Amad. I really am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over half way through now, any comments are very welcomed.   
> Tumblr: silentlagoon.tumblr.com


	16. Jumpers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dwarf without a craft is a rare thing and Rind has decided it's about time she discovered her talent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes or poor writing, this one is very rushed.

Rind had never had a craft. She had never felt the pull towards any sort of trade; though it was not as if she’d ever had much of a chance to.

Her parents had been social climbers, not happy being only distantly related to the line of Durin. They had dissuaded her from pursuing a craft and instead pushed her into the path of every available dignitary.

Even when she had married and her husband had backed her in her desire to find something that she was good at, nothing had felt right. Gems and jewels were not to her taste, her cooking was sound but she garnered no pleasure from it, her sewing was passable but she lacked the patience.

Each Name Day and every Yule, her sons would make her gift. Dori would present her with clothes or furnishings he had made whilst Nori favoured intricate knot work full of hidden messages, normally fairly rude ones. The year they had combined their skills to create a beautifully embroidered dress she had almost cried.

She always felt like such a disappointment in that every gift she gave was crafted by someone else. So she had resolutely taken herself off to market one afternoon to buy yarn and needles. She made sure to acquire some instructions too. This would be her ‘thing’ she decided. Knitting.

She tried, she genuinely tried. It was not easy to keep track of how many rows were required or how to remember how to correct a dropped stitch. It took weeks to finish, but eventually she had two pairs of mittens. Lilac for Dori and emerald green for Nori.

Rind was not the sort of dwarf to be boastful, but in this instance she was very proud of herself. So proud was she that she simply couldn’t wait for Yule to present them.

She gathered them up and went in search of her sons. They were both sat at the kitchen table, Nori working on some fiddly knots whilst Dori looked on, delicately drinking a cup of tea.

“I have something for you.” She announced.

“Is it food?” Nori asked, not looking up from his work and earning himself a soft hit on the shoulder from Dori.

“I made you these.” She placed the mittens on the table. Dori and Nori stared at them. They weren’t the prettiest things either of them had ever seen. The wool had been pulled too tight in certain places and left too loose in others. There were quite a few holes where multiple stitches had been dropped and neither pair matched in size.  But it was evident that their mother had tried very hard. Nori put his on immediately.

“These are great, Ma!”

“Mmm,” Dori agreed, slipping his own pair on, “Just what I needed, thank you, Ama.”

Rind beamed.

“I’m still practising, of course. Hopefully I’ll get better.”

 

Rind’s knitting did improve, vastly. Soon both her sons had been kitted out with matching scarves and hats and their Yule presents were well underway.

It seemed like this discovery of knitting had unlocked a new happiness in her. She looked happier, most days her skin appeared to glow and she had become soppier with her sons. Nori didn’t like that part quite so much.

“She hugged me for like a full five minutes, Dori. And then she cried. I tell you she’s gone round the bend.”

“She cried?”

“Yeah, like, out of nowhere she was sobbing on me.”

Dori furrowed his brow. He didn’t like the sound of that.

“Where is she now?” he asked.

“Parlour,” Nori replied simply, “She’s decided the room looks wonky so she’s moving all the charis about.”

Dori pinched the bridge of his nose. He really hoped he was wrong about this.

“Oh Mahal. She’s done it again, hasn’t she?”  he mumbled to himself, but it was loud enough for Nori’s sharp ears to pick it up.

“Done what? What’s Ma done?”

“Nothing. I’m probably wrong.”

“Come on Dori, you’ve got to tell me.” Nori whined, he hated not knowing things.

“I don’t have to tell you,” Dori snapped, “If I’m right then you’ll find out, if I’m wrong then it can be forgotten.”

He stomped off to the parlour so that his brother didn’t have the chance to retaliate. Rind was indeed moving the furniture, muttering to herself.

“Ama. I’m going to be blunt. If I’m wrong, please forget I said anything but if not, I would like the truth. Are you pregnant?”

Rind stopped pushing the chair she was rearranging.

“Maybe. Well, yes. Yes, I am.”

Dori sighed.

“I didn’t even know you’d found someone.”

Rind shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot, avoiding her son’s eye.

“Well, I haven’t. At least, I had but it wasn’t anything and it’s just highly unfortunate that something came out of the nothing that that was or wasn’t. Don’t be mad.”

“Ama, that made no sense whatsoever,” Dori went over to her and bade her sit, after the rift the announcement of her last pregnancy had caused between them, he wanted to make sure she knew that wouldn’t happen again, “So there’s no father.”

“No. You know, it’s still strange that you act like you’re my parent.”

“I can’t help it, you bring it on yourself,” he told her crossly but clamped a hand over his mouth the moment the words had left his lips, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes you did. It’s fine, you’re right. I do foolish things, Dori, I am very aware of that. I know I should feel awful that I’ve got myself into this situation again but I can’t.”

Dori thought about it for a moment. He hadn’t seen his mother this happy since the days when Nori’s father had still been with them. Perhaps a new baby would be good for her.

“You’ll have to tell Nori.”

“He’s probably already listening.”

“I am!” came a delighted shout from the other side of the wall, “I think it’s great, Ma!”

 

On Yule morning the disjointed and growing family swapped their gifts. Rind proudly handed over two fine jumpers to her lads. They fitted perfectly and were a big step up from her first attempt with the mittens. The jumpers were soft and lovingly crafted; she’d even managed to work in some patterns.

“Dori and I’ve got something for you, Ma, and the baby o’course.” Nori pushed at Dori’s back, encouraging him to go and fetch whatever it was.

He returned with a thin package decorated with an ornate bow. She carefully opened it to find pieces of parchment inside.

“It’s a knitting pattern,” Dori explained, “We thought seeing as how you like the knitting you could try out that one for when the baby comes.”

“Dori and I designed it!” Nori chipped in.

Rind grinned at her lads and promised that she would start work on the tiny jumper that very day.


	17. Decorations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bungo and Belladonna decorate Bag End.

Married life suited Bungo Baggins. He enjoyed his home, his garden and he adored his wife. Belladonna was nothing like a respectable, married hobbit should be. She was wild and impetuous, never still for a moment.

It had been quite the scandal when Bungo had built Bag End with the intention of living there with Belladonna Took as his intended. Never had there been a more ill-suited couple. Steadfast Bungo and flighty Belladonna? It would never last, they said. But five years on the couple were still blissfully happy and ready to welcome a little Baggins come the autumn.  Both were delighted that they could begin to fill the many rooms of Bag End with their own children instead of hosting cousins, nephews and nieces.

Bungo huffed as he pulled the tree up the slope towards home. Normally he would have been content with a very modest solstice tree but in the years he had been married, he had come to realise that Belladonna much preferred their decorating to be big and bright. So, for the sake of his lady love’s happiness, he was lugging the biggest tree that would fit into their home half way across the Shire.

He reached out for the handle of his front door to find it opening for him and his wife rushing out to help.

“Oh, Bungo! It’s magnificent!” she cheered, kissing him on the cheek before making to grab hold of the trunk.

“No, no, Bella. I’ve got it. You shouldn’t be doing any heavy lifting in your condition.”

Belladonna rolled her eyes but moved away all the same. Bungo was a worrier and nothing she could do would change that, not that she would anyway, she found his concern very endearing. So instead of pressing the issue she took herself off to the kitchen and put a kettle on to boil whilst her husband began the battle to get the tree up.

“Oh no!” came a pitiful wail.

“What is it?” she asked as she ran in to see what the problem was.

“There are pine needles all over the place. I quite forgot myself and dragged it all through the house.”

“They’re just pine needles dear, we’ll do a sweep once everything’s finished and it’ll all be forgotten.” She assured him.

Bungo didn’t seem quite so sure that he’d forget. He wrinkled his nose and looked at the grand tree that now dominated the room.

“It’s going to shed something awful.” He bemoaned.

“Oh hush,” Bella scolded, leaning into his side and presenting him with a little shortbread as reward for his efforts, “It’ll look fantastic once we’re done and it’s not as though it’ll be here forever.”

“That’s a thought, what’ll we do next year, once the baby’s here? Can’t have sharp little needles in reach.”

Belladonna grabbed his face and pulled it close to hers. The palms of her hands pressed into his cheeks, squashing his face and making him look like some sort of woodland creature.

“Bungo! Stop fretting. All that is a fair way off yet, we’ll cross those bridges as they come. Now, _please_ can you just enjoy having a lovely tree in our lovely home? Also, can I decorate it now?”

“Only if you kiss me first.” He said, though it was hard to make out as his mouth couldn’t really move due to his wife’s hands on his face.

She grabbed his shirt collar and planted a deep kiss on his lips.

“Kettle’s boiling!” she cried above the shrill whistle from the stove, whirling away to fetch her box of ornaments.

Once the tree was erected, Bungo was under strict instructions not to go near it. For one who was so carefree, Belladonna was extremely particular about the placement of baubles. Their first solstice as newlyweds had been quite the disaster. Bungo had tried to place a green bauble next to a gold but it had been moved as soon as Bella spotted it. In fact, every ornament he placed seemed to end up somewhere else. He had told Bella that this was the way his family had always done things and she had spat back that it was a stupid way and if he wanted an ugly tree then he should have married a Proudfoot. They had refused to share a bed that night. Bungo had stormed off to a guest room, grumbling all the while and though it had blown over by morning, it was mutually agreed that the tree really should be Bella’s job, seeing as she felt most strongly about the whole business.

He settled himself in his armchair with his cup of tea. Bella had already set about hanging shiny trinkets on the branches. She was so careful with each item. Treating them as though they might shatter at any moment. She looked so lost in her work, meticulously placing each item ‘just so’. Bungo loved the way the afternoon light shone through the window onto her face, already glowing without the sun’s help.

She had always been radiant but the glow was new. A reminder that she carried his child. The news couldn’t have come at a better time. After five years of trying and watching her sisters carry and birth babes, they had begun to fear that children were an impossible dream for them. Bungo had seen the sadness in his wife’s eyes when yet another birth was announced by a couple who had been wed less than a year. Five years was a long time for all their efforts to have come to nothing. But now not a week had passed since they had discovered their fears were unjustified, and Bungo kept having to remind himself that this was real, that he was going to be a father.

“You’re staring.” Bella’s voice snapped him out of his pondering.

“What? Sorry, forget all else watching you.”

“Sap,” Bella teased, “Would you like to help?”

“I thought we’d agreed, never again?”

“Not with the tree. Of course not with the tree! No, I thought perhaps we could try those paper snowflakes I was telling you about. Remember? Like the ones I once saw in Bree?”

Bungo shrugged.

“Why not? I did like the sound of those,” Bella made to get up from her spot on the floor but he stopped her, “You stay, I’ll fetch the necessaries. Just parchment and scissors, yes?”

“That’s it.”

On his return he handed her a pair of scissors and sat opposite her, placing a pile of parchment between them. She showed him how to fold it so that the snowflake would have six points and where not to cut so that the whole thing wouldn’t fall apart.

Soon they had a mighty pile of snowflakes each one different and more intricate than the last. Bungo’s first few tries hadn’t been all that good but he had persevered and managed to create a few that really rivalled his wife’s.

Bella put down her scissors and scooted over to place herself in Bungo’s lap. He wrapped his arms around her, hand resting on her flat stomach. They both sat, breathing steadily together simply watching the ornaments on the tree as the light caught them and shone off their polished surfaces.

“What are we going to do with all the snowflakes?” Bungo murmured in Bella’s ear, reluctant to break the comfortable quiet that shrouded them.

“We could put them in the windows?” she suggested, “Then we’ll get patterns on the walls from their shadows when the sun’s out.”

He buried his face into her curls and pressed a kiss beneath her ear.

“That’s a wonderful idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally managed to write Bungo without making him a stammering wreck!


	18. Ice Skating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin is forced to go out on the ice. For fun. Dwalin can't think of anything less amusing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the poor quality, life has been a bit hectic and got in the way.

This was not what Dwalin wanted to be doing. At all. When he had suggested to Fili and Kili that they go skating on the frozen lake he had not included himself in the picture. He could have very easily said no to two adolescents but add Thorin and Dis into the picture, all urging him to go along, and he found himself helpless.

He had only put the idea out there because Kili had declared himself bored. Dwalin had grabbed some of the scrap steel lying about the forge, smelted it down and recreated it into two pairs of shining blades which he presented to the lads to attach to their boots. They had pleaded with him to come along but he didn’t have any blades of course, how could he possibly go skating? But Thorin had come to his ‘rescue’ with just enough steel for one more pair.

And so it was that Dwalin was standing on the ice, legs locked and defiant in his stillness whilst Fili and Kili raced each other, the sharpness of the blades leaving tracks in their wake.

“Come on, Dwalin!” Fili called as he whizzed past, “You can’t just stand there.”

“Yeah, come on, it’s fun.” Kili confirmed.

Dwalin growled. It most certainly wasn’t fun. He didn’t entirely trust his balance on these thin strips of metal, plus his head was cold and that always made him grumpy. Tentatively he slid out further on the ice. His knees wobbled with the effort of keeping him upright. He glanced up to see Fili trying to hide a smirk.

“Shut up. I’m not good on ice.” He told him gruffly.

He took another furtive step but leant too far, he waved his arms about in an attempt to regain balance but it was to no avail. Smack! He collided with the hard ice, barely getting his hands up in time to save his face from being smashed to pieces. Once he’d recovered from the shock he realised that the boys were beside themselves. Kili was bent double, tears streaming down his face in mirth. He seemed to have forgotten what was attached to his boots because as he leant even further he then lost his command of the ice and fell, dragging Fili down with him.

There was a moment of silence before Dwalin’s booming laugh rang out across the lake to which Fili and Kili’s joined. Getting back up again proved quite the challenge amidst the laughing, all three dwarves kept slipping before they’d even got a foot up which of course caused more giggling. Kili all but gave up, deciding instead to propel himself across the frozen lake on his belly.

When they returned to the warm forge, Dis would roll her eyes and pointedly not ask how it was that they had succeeded in soaking their jackets right through.


	19. Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belladonna gets a bit carried away cooking roast dinner, Bungo and Bilbo don't mind at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry about a short fic where nothing really happens. It'll pick up in a day or so, just have a lot of important grown up things going on. (I hate being an adult).

In hindsight a three bird roast may have been a bit much. There were only three of them after all and despite the infamous appetite of hobbits, they did have their limits. But Belladonna couldn’t help herself. She was an excellent cook so why not show it off?

Bilbo had been poking his head into the kitchen all day, always with the same question: “Is it ready yet?” only to be lead away by Bungo, telling him to leave his mother in peace.

Belladonna emptied the last of the vegetables into a dish, ready to be served. Perhaps she had gone a bit overboard. The chicken, goose and turkey were sitting on the side resting, allowing their juices to seep through the tender flesh. There was cabbage and sprouts and honey roasted carrots and parsnips and fresh podded peas. The potatoes had been roasted in goose fat, making their outsides golden and crispy with the promise of white fluffy insides hidden beneath.

She dispensed the thick gravy from the pan into a gravy boat and called for Bungo to help her take the feast out to the dining room. She giggled when he saw the mountain of food and gave a small whine in anticipation of eating.

“Is there stuffing?” he ventured, not being able to spot any.

“Of course. Two types, pork and sage and walnut and celery.” She said, handing over the dishes.

“Can I help?” Bilbo piped up from behind her. How did he get there? She’d neither seen nor heard him.

She ruffled his curls, though she didn’t have to reach as far as she used to, he had been growing a fair bit of late.

“Reckon you can manage the cranberry sauce?”

“Mother, I thinkI can manage a bit more than that!” he protested but willingly took the bowl.

 

Bilbo had insisted on laying the table and he had done a magnificent job. The table linen and precisely folded napkins had been ironed meticulously. The candlesticks were polished and the silverware was shining. With the addition of the food, it looked like a table set for kings.

Bungo and Bilbo were sat ready and waiting by the time Bella arrived with the final dish. They looked at her expectantly and she rolled her eyes.

“Go on then! Tuck in.”


	20. Pudding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A follow on from yesterday's prompt.   
> The Baggins household prepares to face Belladonna's pudding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finish work today it's a day of horrid travel and then I will be able to dedicate some more time to these.

They’d made quite a dent in the ridiculous amount of food. Bilbo had been forced to undo a couple of buttons on his waistcoat whilst his father had removed his completely along with his belt, both were now folded over the back of his chair.

He exhaled loudly.

“I am positively stuffed.” He announced.

“But room for pudding?” Belladonna asked, already knowing the answer, hobbits always had room for pudding.

Bungo and Bilbo both paled a little.

“Ah, yes. Pudding.” Bungo forced a smile. The trouble was that whilst Belladonna was a fabulous cook with a flair for big, hearty meals, her skill at making anything sweet was pretty much non-existent.

Yule puddings and rich fruit cakes were usually made in early autumn so that they could be fed brandy until it had seeped deep into the currants and peel. When Bilbo had spotted his mother weighing out the ingredients for the pudding some months previous he had inwardly groaned. She hadn’t attempted the pudding in many years but it looked as though she was up for another try.

He and his father had had plenty of time to prepare for this day, practising faces that would mask their distaste. Now as Bella scurried off to steam the pudding Bungo grasped Bilbo’s forearm.

“Remember, act as if it’s tasty.” He whispered.

“I know, I know! You can’t chew slowly though, she’ll know that’s not how you usually eat.”

“Can someone clear the table? Oh and find some matches will you?” Bella called.

“Oh my days, she’s not going to light it, is she?” Bilbo’s eyes were wide.

“What’s wrong?”

“I saw the amount of brandy that went into that thing. The house will be ablaze, I just know it.” Bilbo groaned and hid his head in his hands.

 

Once there was sufficient room on the table, Belladonna bought in the pudding and placed it in the centre.

“I don’t think I did it right,” she told them, poking at the gelatinous mound with a fork, “It looks a bit wet doesn’t it?”

“Mother, did you wrap it in muslin when you steamed it?”

Belladonna looked blankly at her son.

“Was I supposed to?”

He nodded and affirmation and the monstrosity was whisked away. Bungo sat in confusion.

“Does this mean we don’t have to eat it?”

“I give up. I’m clearly not made for making treats,” Bella said, returning with a fruit bowl, “Sorry boys, no pud this year.”

“Well I’m not sure about that. I may have prepared a second, you know, just in case something went wrong,” Bilbo blushed, “It’s in the pantry, I’ll go fetch it.”

 

It was fervently agreed upon that from then on Bilbo was to take complete control of cakes and sweets in the Baggins household in the hopes that his mother wouldn’t feel the need to ‘have a go’ ever again.


	21. Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A party leads to some unexpected surprises for Dori and Nori

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is late because I've had to move out of my house and travel across the breadth of the UK by train this week. It's not been fun but thank god it's Christmas soon!

It was a meagre spread by all accounts. In the days of Erebor’s great wealth, the royal family would have been expected to host an extravagant event with music and dancing and wonderful gifts for every attendee. These days a good amount of food and a sufficient amount of ale was considered more than generous.

Rind much preferred this party to the ones she was expected to attend in Erebor. Here there was no need to be proper, here she could act as she pleased and no one would bat an eyelid. She knew it would have been different if she had not been a close friend and confidante to the Princess Dís for many years but it was not different and here she was at a royal party no less. Oh if her parents could see her now, they would have been jumping for joy.

She tried to reach across for her tankard without jostling Ori who was dozing lightly on her shoulder. The toddler had decided that socialising was not something that he wanted to be doing tonight. The other children were too boisterous, the adults were too loud and there was no way he was going to be separated from his Ama for anything. Not that she minded, she knew to relish the attachment; it would fade as he grew older but for now his Ama was the centre of his world.

While Dori and Nori were almost exact copies of their fathers Ori was all hers. She hadn’t really known his sire and had no desire to. Ori was her son, no-one else’s. Her sweet little boy with a dusting of freckles that covered his cheeks beneath his serious and cautious eyes was not to be shared.

She had a quick scan of the room for her other sons. She spotted Dori hiding away in a corner, unusual, this was the sort of function he should be revelling in, she followed his line of sight and saw Balin across the room. She knew their courtship had ended some time ago but she never knew why; Dori hadn’t said and she hadn’t asked. There was definite sadness and longing in her sons eyes and when Balin looked his way, he looked the same. Interesting.

“I know. I’m working on it.” Nori’s voice from behind her made her jump.

“Don’t sneak up on people, I’ve told you, it’s not polite. And what do you mean ‘working on it’?”

“Them two,” he told her, indicating Dori and Balin, “They’re not going to sort it out on their own and the split was stupid.”

“You know what happened? Tell me.”

Nori coloured a touch.

“I can’t. I promised I wouldn’t.”

“Come on, Nori. No secrets between family.” Rind pressed.

“I know, Ma, but Dori told me in confidence. That’s rare, I ain’t going to betray that. Oh shite.”

His eyes widened as he spotted something above his mother’s shoulder. She turned to see what had caught his attention.

“What is it?”

“Dwalin. I don’t think he’s happy to see me.”

True, the hulking mass of dwarf was staring daggers at Nori.

“What did you do?”

“It was just his coin purse and I put it back. It was just a joke!”

“Oh Nori. Pick your battles, boy. Here, take Ori. He can’t hit you if you’re holding a dwarfling.”

Ori snuffled a bit as he was handed over, his face screwed up momentarily at being removed from his mother’s warmth but Nori proved an equally comfortable pillow so even though he was now awake he didn’t mind. Rind took the opportunity to disappear amongst the other guests leaving her boys to their own devices.

“Shall we go find Dori, little brother.”

“Dor!” Ori smiled, “Yeah!”

“Dori’s not been very happy, has he? I think we need to sort that out.”

“Why Dori sad? Dori poorly?”

Ori looked so stricken that Nori couldn’t help but chuckle. The little lad had a strong desire to see everyone happy all of the time.

“No, he’s not poorly. He loves Mister Balin, that dwarf over there,” he pointed him out, “And Mister Balin loves Dori but they’re being really silly and pretending they’re don’t.”

“That’s stupid!” Ori declared.

“It is. So we’ve got to be the best brothers ever and make them see sense.” Nori whispered in his ear, making Ori giggle as his beard tickled him.

“Dor!” he squealed as they joined Dori in the corner, stretching his arms out. Dori took him and gave him a whiskery kiss.

“Do you think you could try using your own feet for a bit, Ori? Maybe go and play with the other children for a while?”

Ori shook his head violently and buried his face in Dori’s shoulder.

“Ma’s milling about somewhere,” Nori said, “I’ve got a guardsman to wind up. You alright here?”

Not that Dori could have protested as Nori was gone in an instant.

“Just me and you then, Ori.”

“Want cake.”

The table with the sweet treats was of course situated at the side of the room he had been desperately trying to avoid all evening but Ori had been fussy all evening and it was best to avoid a tantrum. Perhaps Balin would be too busy in conversation to see him.

Balancing Ori on one hip, he reached out for one of the smaller cakes. He was directly behind Balin but if he was quick he could just grab the cake and go. Ori it seemed had other plans. Before Dori could stop him he was tapping Balin on the shoulder.

“Hello!” he said brightly with a small wave as Balin turned.

“Hello, Master Ori.” he replied, adding a small nod to Dori and not quite meeting his eye.

“When are you going to marry Dori?”

Dori stiffened.

“Sorry,” he gushed, “I don’t know where he got that from.”

“It’s fine,” Balin assured, “No harm done.”

There fell an awkward silence with neither dwarf being sure how to proceed. Luckily, at that moment Rind swept in, all smiles. She plucked Ori out of Dori’s arms.

“Hello Balin, haven’t seen you in a while, how have you been, dear?”

“Oh, yes, fine thank you. Busy as always. Yourself?”

“Can’t complain. Plenty to do with this tiny terror,” she ruffled Ori’s hair and he yawned widely, “Reckon it’s bedtime.”

“I’ll take him, Amad.” Dori offered, desperate to get out of there.

Rind just dismissed him with a wave and told him stay and have fun and then she was gone leaving him completely alone with Balin.

“I should probably go.” He turned away but was pulled back by a soft hand on his wrist.

“Don’t. Please.”

“We can’t, we said . . .”

“I know what we said,” Bailn interrupted, keeping his voice low, “But I miss you. I know that we both have our duties but I’ve been thinking, why should that stop us? I mean it’s ridiculous and the more I think on it the more ridiculous it sounds. Being apart for the sake of propriety? I don’t care what children your mother has with whom or your brother’s ‘dealings’. I care about you.”

Dori could sense that there was more to this speech but he couldn’t bear to hear anymore, couldn’t bear to have Balin pour his heart out at his feet in such a public area. He silenced him by gently pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

 

Dori woke in a bed softer than his own with Balin’s breath ghosting across the back of his neck and his hand on his hip. He turned over and mumbled a ‘good morning’ between lazy kisses which soon turned into gentle caresses and soft moans.

“Did you sleep well?” Balin (ever the gentleman) enquired, squeezing Dori’s behind.

“Mmm, very well, should I not have?”

“Well it seems Dwalin brought someone home in the wee hours. They weren’t exactly quiet.”

Dori chuckled and nuzzled in closer, utterly sated and beyond comfortable. Both dwarves began to doze off, lulled by their shared warmth and the quiet of the morning. All of a sudden a tremendous roar came from the neighbouring chamber followed by what sounded like a scuffle.

Dori and Balin looked at each other in confusion.

“What on earth was that?”

“I have no idea. Perhaps we should go see.” Balin said, throwing off the covers and tossing Dori his spare robe.

As they left the room Dwalin’s door was flung open to reveal a rather flustered looking Nori hastily tying the laces of his trousers. He blushed as red as his hair when he realised that his brother was witness to his embarrassment.

“I am never drinking again.” He mumbled as way of an explanation, head down and trying to worm his way past the two elder dwarves who blocked his way to freedom.

“Nori you forgot your … oh.”

Dwalin had joined them in the hallway holding Nori’s jerkin in one hand.

“Well this has turned into quite a party. Nori will you be joining us for breakfast?” Balin asked, sliding an arm around Dori’s waist.

Nori’s eyes caught the movement and he smiled smugly.

“Er . . . thanks, but no thanks. I should push off,” he took his jerkin from Dwalin, giving his hand a small squeeze, “So, yeah, see you around.”

“Sure, bye.” Dwalin grumbled.

As soon as he heard the front door close, marking Nori’s departure he shot Dori and Balin a look that practically screamed ‘never speak of this’ and went to shut himself away in his room, leaving the others laughing in the hall.


	22. Presents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori's only getting Dwalin a gift because it's polite. No other reason.

Nori was definitely, absolutely not courting Dwalin. Yes, they tumbled more often than they used to and yes, they spent time together beyond their bed sport. But it wasn’t courting. So a yuletide gift shouldn’t be an issue, he shouldn’t be considering it and yet there was this niggling feeling that it would be _nice_ to get something. It was Yule after all and it would be rude not to.

He couldn’t give it to him in person though. He couldn’t let Dwalin see that he’d bought him anything. So instead of acting like any normal dwarf he stalked him for a half a day, found the perfect moment when his guard was down and slipped it into his pocket.

  
When Dwalin returned home after a full day of work he couldn’t wait to just bathe and sleep. He shucked off his jacket and emptied his pockets as he did every night and was surprised when his fingers clasped around a small box. He drew it out. It was tied with a gold ribbon and finished with a bow.

Curiously he opened it up to find a decorative pewter dagger settled on a bed of purple satin. Its hilt was inlaid with simple, green gems and a delicate thread of silver knotted intricately down the dulled blade. He couldn’t read knot language as well as some but this was simple enough.

_This doesn’t mean anything. It’s just Yule._

Dwalin laughed. Typical Nori.


	23. Snowball Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frerin tries to teach baby Dis about snowballs

“You see, Dis, it’s easy just roll it up. Like this, see?”

Frerin repeated the action, balling the snow up and adding it to the small pile. His little sister sat bundled up in furs and a floppy hat with flaps that covered up her ears. She was a bit more interesting now she could sit up on her own. Her cheeks were rosy in the cold air; her eyes wide watching the sporadic flakes softly fall to earth.

“Come on, Dis. You try.” Frerin pressed a pile of snow into her gloved hands; she just giggled and patted it into her legs.

Frerin sighed. It was hopeless, Ama was right, she was too small for snowballs. He decided to just carry on rolling them up, adding to his collection.

Dis gave a small shriek and clapped her hands together. Frerin looked up, not too far away Thorin was wading through the snow. He hushed his sister.

“Shh, keep it down. I’ll show you what you do with snowballs.”

He reached under her arms and hoisted her so that they were both sat behind the pile of snow. Frerin took hold of one of the balls and showed it to Dis.

“Watch this.”

He drew back his arm and lobbed it towards Thorin. It landed squarely on his chest, making him gasp in surprise. Dis giggled like a loon, making Frerin smile, he picked up another and threw it. This time Thorin was a bit more prepared and managed to turn so that it hit is arm.

“Frerin! Stop it!”

“You chicken, Thorin?”

“No! Shut up!”

Thorin scooped up some snow and retaliated with force. Frerin was too busy strategizing with Dis to notice that the cold ball of snow that was rushing towards him.

It landed with a wet thud on his cheek. He shrieked in outrage as the cold slush dripped down his neck. It was too much for Dis, she fell back chortling, rolling around in the snow as her brothers unleashed hell on each other. Occasionally a misshapen ball would land by her boots and she would reach out and try to throw it like they did. It never went very far.

When the fun began to wear off and the cold seeped into their clothes, the trio trudged back to the warmth of their chambers settling in front of the fire, bundled together, warming their cold fingers and wet hair.


	24. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up on Yule morning after Erebor has been reclaimed. 
> 
> Everybody lives because it's Christmas.

Erebor was not the same as before. After all that time playing host to a dragon, after all the death and fear and loss, there was no chance of restoring the great kingdom to its previous glory.

Instead Erebor began anew, a beacon of hope; a proof of the resilience of dwarves and most importantly, a home. Many had flocked back to the mountain; for some it had been a chance to return to the only place they could ever truly belong, others came to finally lay to rest the family they had lost to the dragon.

The forges blazed, the mines were open and alliances struck. Erebor was returned to the dwarves. They were home.

 

**Dís**

Dís woke in chambers that had once been hers many years ago, but she did not remember them. This was a fresh and new to her sons. Sometimes she would get flashes of people and places but she was never sure if these were her memories or if she was simply building up pictures based on what stories she had been told.

She wished Vistri could have seen this. She wished her parents had lived to see Thorin’s triumph. She wished for a lot of things but ultimately she was grateful. They were safe, and they were home.

 

**Bilbo**

Bilbo Baggins still sometimes thought he must have dreamt it all. On days when he woke to the sun streaming through his curtains and the song of morning birds rousing him from his comfortable feather bed, he almost believed he’d imagined his adventures.

After everything he had done, this life seemed too normal. Too mundane. How could he have returned to this? The answer was always immediate and always the same. Frodo. That little boy needed him, and Bilbo needed him in return. And though his adventures had changed him, he could never regret coming home.

 

**Balin and Dori**

Balin always woke before Dori. He looked so peaceful in sleep. The long braid he wore for bed was mussed and loose with a single tight braid tucked behind his right ear, fixed with a small mithril marriage bead.

It still made Balin smile like a sappy old fool to think that Dori was his husband after their extremely lengthy and turbulent courtship. He wrapped his arms around him and pressed soft, whiskery kisses into his bare shoulder.

Dori grumbled as he woke up.

“What hour is it?” he asked blearily.

“A few hours past dawn I should imagine.”

Dori turned over, eyes still closed and nestled into Balin’s chest.

“Good. My mother’s not coming until noon.”

“You know she’ll be early. I want to give you your gift before she arrives.”

Dori smiled, he had some ideas about what this gift might be.

“Best get on with it then, I think I’ve waited long enough.”

 

**Dwalin and Nori**

It was barely the crack of dawn, why on earth should they wake up? The bed that was gradually becoming ‘theirs’ and not just Dwalin’s was far too comfortable to leave. So as the rest of Erebor began to stir, ready to begin their celebrations, Dwalin and Nori continued to sleep in a blissful tangle of rust coloured hair and tattooed limbs.

 

**Rind and Ori**

“Wake up sleepy head!” Rind yelled, barrelling into her son’s room

“Ama, five more minutes.” Ori whined.

“Guess you don’t want any presents then?”

“I never said that!” he sat bolt upright, trying to keep a straight face which proved tricky given that his mother was giggling like a dwarrowdam half her age.

She just found it highly amusing that her little boy, the war hero and highly acclaimed scribe, should be so put out at the age old ‘no presents’ threat.

“Come on now, I’ve a pot of coffee waiting and I can’t finish it on my own.”

He graced her with a smile, he never could say no to his mother’s coffee.

 

**Fili and Kili**

It was essential that they continued their tradition of opening presents together in the morning. This had been made very clear to their mother who had rolled her eyes and pointed out that they were both adults now, but nonetheless, she had made sure that they had each had a small sack of gifts left at the foot of their beds.

This year they were in Fili’s chambers to open their gifts. They sat amongst a pile of torn paper and boxes.

“Do you think we should start doing this with Amad?” Fili suggested.

“Why? It’s always been just us two.”

“I know, but she just seems a bit, I dunno, lonely.”

Kili paused in his unwrapping and frowned.

“Do you think? I know she doesn’t like being on her own but I thought she was doing alright.”

“But we haven’t really visited much since she arrived. Really Kili, we’ve hardly seen her.”

After a brief discussion, the boys quickly gathered the remainder of their gifts and went off in search of Thorin. This was supposed to be a day for family and so it was essential that he didn’t try and slink off to do any ‘King business’. Yes he’d probably complain about the hour but tough luck. Their mother needed company, she really despised being alone.


	25. Family (Rating T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori doesn't have a father. At least that's what his mother would like him to believe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last day. Thank you to everyone who's commented and left kudos, it's been a lot of fun and given me a few ideas for future fics. Merry (belated) Christmas!

To Rind, fathers were mostly just extras. It was the mother who carried and birthed the children and in her own experiences it had been solely up to her to feed and clothe and love them. But she couldn’t avoid the questions her sons would inevitably ask about their fathers.

Nori had always known that his father was dead; he knew his name and his love of wandering. He had asked many times for more information which had been freely given, but as he got older he grew to realise the sadness it caused his mother so he had stopped. His father had loved him and his mother; he knew this and that was enough.

As time had gone by Dori began to forget his father. He remembered waking from nightmares only to be soothed by strong arms. He remembered the smell of freshly laundered clothes with a faint scent of pipe weed. Rind often talked of his gentleness and tender nature but she had never loved him, and Dori did not know why.

Ori didn’t have a father.

 

As soon as the first raven had arrived in the Blue Mountains with the news that Erebor had been reclaimed Rind had signed onto the first available caravan along with the Princess Dís. Some months later she was approaching the mountain with apprehension. This was the place she had been so elated to leave behind and here she was, coming back as if the day could not have come sooner.

The caravan slowed as it entered what once had been Dale. There were plenty of men and dwarves working on the reconstruction. They lugged barrows full of stone and lumber to buildings that were in various stages of completion.

“- don’t imagine it’ll be a grand affair,” she heard a passing dwarrow say, “Not enough trade just yet for anything luxurious.”

“But that’s not the point of a wedding though, is it?” his companion said, “It’s about the union itself not what goods they can show off.”

Rind never could resist a bit of gossip and it seemed like an Ereborian wedding was on the cards, she couldn’t let information like that simply pass her by.

“Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear. Is there to be a wedding?”

“Surely is, between two of the heroes of Erebor no less.”

“Truly? Which ones?”

“Balin son of Fundin and Dori son of Baldr I believe.”

Rind shrieked and embraced the two alarmed dwarves.

“Sorry, sorry!” she apologised once she’d realised how absurd she must seem, “It’s just I thought they’d never get round to it. He’s my son you see, Dori. My eldest.”

“Ah well then, congratulations missus. You must be very proud.”

“Oh I am,” she beamed, “Extremely.”

 

It was all she could do not to run the rest of the way up to the mountain but she kept herself in check. She shouldn’t present herself as the silly mother who always made a show of everything, now was the time to act her age.

The company was waiting for them outside the gate. King Thorin greeted his sister formally before welcoming the rest of the caravan to Erebor. Rind caught Ori’s eye, he grinned and gave her a surreptitious wave, bouncing on the balls of his feet. As soon as the formalities were done with she rushed forward and held him tightly, smothering him in kisses.

“I am so proud of you,” she told him, “But don’t you dare ever run off like that again.”

“Don’t mind her, Ori, she’s probably just jealous. Bet you wish you’d come along, eh Ma?” Nori had appeared at her shoulder and she gave him a clip round the ear before pulling him into a hug.

“Far too old for that nonsense. Now, where’s my Dori?”

“Here, Amad.”

All notions of acting the sensible mother flew out of the window, she squealed and threw her arms around his neck.

“My baby’s getting married!”

“What? How did you know? You literally just got here!”

“I have my ways,” she tapped her nose conspiratorially, “So it’s true then?”

Dori nodded with a soppy grin.

“Balin was going to ask your permission but, I mean you weren’t here and we …”

“Oh come off it! As if you need my permission at your age.”

She scanned the crowd for her son’s fiancé, upon finding him she beckoned him over, taking great delight in the fact that he looked like a guilty schoolboy.

“Lady Rind.” He greeted, giving her a brief but respectful bow. She smacked his arm in return.

“None of that,” she scolded, “You know very well that that’s not my name. No need to grovel, in my opinion you’ve waited far too long to make an honest dwarf of my boy.”

Dori and Balin looked sufficiently embarrassed while Nori roared and Ori stifled his chuckles behind his woollen gloves.

 

The night before the wedding Dori sat with his mother reminiscing of times past.

“Ama, can … that is … would you mind if we talked about Adad?”

“Of course we can, darling. What should we talk of?”

“I just always wondered, if you didn’t love him, why did you marry him?”

Rind sighed. It was a fair question and to be honest, one she should have answered long ago.

“I was very young and very strong minded,” she began, “My parents had been grooming me for marriage as soon as they could. I don’t even want to think about the number of dwarves I courted before I came of age. All these nobles with their honey words and deceiving smiles. Then along comes your father who was stupidly honest. You see, he would have much preferred a husband to a wife but he wanted children and – oh you’ll think me so silly – I was so tired of the pressure to find someone and so I accepted him. Simply because he was honest. It was idiotic on both our parts really. What if we’d found other people later on? What then? But that’s beside the point. We did not love each other as a married couple should, but Baldr became my closest friend and we were happy. So in a way, I did love him.”

Dori suddenly tugged her into a crushing embrace.

“You are the most ridiculous dwarf,” he told her, “But at least Adad was too.”

 

When Ori had asked about his sire it had been much harder to tell him the truth.

“Who was he, Ama? That’s all I want to know, just a name.” he pleaded.

“I can’t, Ori. I’m sorry but I can’t do that.”

“Why not? Are you embarrassed?”

“No,” she told him curtly, “I just can’t. Stop asking.”

A rare flash of anger passed over Ori’s normally sweet features.

“I just want to know who I am!” he yelled.

“I promised I wouldn’t tell and I’ve been true to my word this long. I’ll not break it now, and certainly not when you’re acting like a petulant dwarfling.” She snapped, throwing down the dishcloth she was holding to make it abundantly clear that it was the end of the discussion.

Fuming, Ori stormed out, slamming the door with as much strength as he could muster. Not an hour later, Nori entered unannounced, looking furious.

“You need to tell him.” He said.

“I’ll say the same to you as I said to him: I _can’t_.”

“He’ll not judge you for anything, Ma, if that’s what you’re afraid of. He just wants a name.”

“And then what? He’ll squirrel off to the library and set himself up with genealogy reports and then it won’t just be a name, it’ll be a lineage and a history and before long he’ll have found the bastard!”

Nori suddenly looked very uncomfortable; the dwarf in question must be bad for her to use language like that.

“Ma,” he ventured, “You weren’t … forced or nothing, were you?”

“No. No I was not. There were things not mentioned that should have been, though. Please. Trust me when I say it’s better that Ori doesn’t know. I made a promise not to say anything.”

“To him?”

“To his wife.”

 

In truth the main reason she couldn’t give Ori a name was because she didn’t know it. It was after a few ales in the tavern when she had spotted him at the bar. It was his hair that caught her eye. The same colour as Nori’s father’s had been. He was younger than her, that much was obvious, but he sent a smile and a wink her way, so not so young as to find her unappealing, she had thought. Maybe, just maybe, she could pretend he was Nabbi, just for one night imagine that her love was not dead but alive and well in her arms.

He took her to a little bookshop he owned in a part of town she’d rarely been. Buzzing from the combination of drink and heavy kisses, she could almost imagine that his hands were Nabbi’s, that his scent was less parchment and more of bonfires. But later, when he lay spent on top of her she would realise that actually, his hair was more brown than red, that his scent was definitely not like Nabbi’s and that he had done what no other lover she’d had had done before. He’d taken his pleasure in her and given her none. As she walked home alone in the early hours and the haze of drink began to lift, she realised that she had found nothing about the tryst pleasant; in fact the whole thing had been verging on painful. No one had ever been that rough or uncaring with her. She had used him just as much, she knew, but still she could feel where there would be bruises come morning. She cursed herself. Of all the stupid things she had done, this ranked pretty damn highly.

It was a mistake that she tried to put behind her. She fully intended to act as if it had never happened and just move on being a little wiser about the world. But when her monthlies stopped and she found that everything she ate refused to stay down for long it became apparent that this mistake was not going to be forgotten.

She was more than happy to leave things be, to just prepare for motherhood again on her own but Dori and Nori had been persistent that if it had been either of them siring a child, they would want to know.

She remembered the street where his bookshop was well enough as she had made sure to avoid it since that night. It was with some trepidation that she entered but was then flooded with relief when she saw it was not him behind the counter but a dwarrowdam. She was very pretty with a belly much larger than Rind’s, she held a hand around it protectively, her first then Rind guessed.

The lady graced her with a warm smile.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Oh, I was just looking for the gentleman who owns this place. It’s not important.”

The dwarf’s smile faltered a little, her eyes lingered on Rind’s small baby bump.

“Oh. He’s done it again, hasn’t he?”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s not the first time,” she was clearly trying to hold back tears now, “But he promised me it wouldn’t happen again. He promised.”

Comprehension dawned on Rind in a wave of nausea.

“He’s married? To you?”

The woman nodded, covering her eyes as if by shutting them Rind would disappear.

“I won’t say anything,” Rind told her, “If it’s easier I won’t ever tell anyone. I swear to you, no one need know.”

“ _I_ know.”

Rind approached her, tentatively taking her young hands in her own.

“Sometimes pretending is easier. Yes, you know. I can’t change that. Mahal knows I wish I could. I wish I could take it all back, if I’d known I’d never have … but it’s a bit late for all that. You have my word that I will disappear from your life. I’m just a stranger you’ve never met. Do you understand? Pretend and maybe one day it’ll seem real.”

 

It was a promise she had kept. The only secret she had kept from her sons but she truly believed it had been for the best and that it still was.

Ori came home after dinner, as silent as a mouse and sat opposite her at the table.

“He’s not a decent dwarf, Ori. Even if I didn’t have an oath to keep I wouldn’t want him anywhere near you.”

“Nori said it might be something like that. That he was already married.”

“I didn’t know that at the time.”

“I know, Ama. And I don’t mind, really. I’ve had a think and I do know who I am. I’m your son. You and Dori and Nori, you’re all the family I need.”


End file.
